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A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 


....    Woe  unto  the  foolish  prophets,  that 
follow  their  own  spirit,  and  have  seen 

nothing! 

Because,  even   because  they  have  seduced 
my  people,  saying.  Peace ;  and  there 
was  no  peace ;   and  one   built   up   a 
wall,  and  lo,   others  daubed  it  with 
untempered  mortar : 
Say  unto  them  which  daub  it  with  un- 
tempered mortar,  that  it  shall  fall  ; 
there  shall  be  an  overflowing  shower  ; 
and  ye,  0  great  hailstones,  shall  fall ; 
and  a  stormy  wind  shall  rend  it, 
Lo,  when  the  wall  is  fallen,  shall  it  not 
be  said  unto  you,  Where  is  the  daub- 
ing wherewith  ye  have  daubed  it  ? — 
EzEKiEL  xiii.  3  .   .   .   •    10-12. 


A    CHILD 
OF    THE    JAGO 


BY 

ARTHUR   MORRISON 

AUTHOR    OF     ' TALES    OF     MEAN    STREETS ' 


THIRD    EDITION 


METHUEN   &  CO. 

36  ESSEX   STREET,  W.C. 

LONDON 

1897 


M7C46 


TO 

ARTHUR  OSBORNE  JAY 

VICAR  OF  HOLY  TRINITY,  SHOREDITCH 


PREFACE    TO  THE   THIRD 
EDITION 

I  AM  glad  to  take  this,  the  first  available 
opportunity,  to  acknowledge  the  kindness 
with  which  A  Child  of  the  Jago  has  been 
received  :  both  by  the  reading  public,  from  which 
I  have  received  many  gratifying  assurances  that 
what  I  have  tried  to  say  has  not  altogether  failed 
of  its  effect :  and  by  the  reviewers,  the  most  of 
whom  have  written  in  very  indulgent  terms. 

I  think  indeed,  that  I  am  the  more  gratified 
by  the  fact  that  this  reception  has  not  been 
unanimous  :  because  an  outcry  and  an  opposition, 
even  from  an  unimportant  minority,  are  proofs 
that  I  have  succeeded  in  saying,  however  im- 
perfectly, something  that  was  worth  being  said. 
Under  the  conditions  of  life  as  we  know  it  there 
is  no  truth  worth  telling  that  will  not  interfere  with 
some  hearer's  comfort.  Various  objections  have 
been  made  to  A  Child  of  the  fago,  and  many  of 
them  had  already  been  made  to  Tales  of  Mean 
Streets.  And  it  has  been  the  way  of  the  objectors 
as  well  as  the  way  of  many  among  the  kindest  of 
my  critics,  to  call  me  a  '  realist'  The  word  has 
been  used  sometimes,  it  would  seem,  in  praise ; 
sometimes   in    mere   indifference    as   one   uses    a 


viii  PREFACE 

phrase  of  convenient  description  ;  sometimes  by 
way  of  an  irremediable  reproach.  It  is  natural, 
then,  not  merely  that  I  should  wish  to  examine 
certain  among  the  objections  made  to  my  work, 
but  that  I  should  feel  some  interest  in  the  de- 
finition and  description  of  a  realist.  A  matter 
never  made  clear  to  me. 

Now  it  is  a  fact  that  I  have  never  called  myself 
a  'realist,'  and  I  have  never  put  forth  any  work 
as  '  realism.'  I  decline  the  labels  of  the  school- 
men and  the  sophisters :  being  a  simple  writer 
of  tales,  who  takes  whatever  means  lie  to  his 
hand  to  present  life  as  he  sees  it ;  who  insists 
on  no  process  ;  and  who  refuses  to  be  bound 
by  any  formula  or  prescription  prepared  by  the 
cataloguers  and  the  pigeon-holers  of  literature. 

So  it  happens  that  when  those  who  use  the  word 
'  realist '  use  it  with  no  unanimity  of  intent  and 
with  a  loose,  inapprehensive  application,  it  is  not 
easy  for  me,  who  repudiate  it  altogether,  to  make 
a  guess  at  its  meaning.  Nevertheless,  it  seems  to 
me  that  the  man  who  is  called  a  '  realist '  is  one 
who,  seeing  things  with  his  own  eyes,  discards 
the  conventions  of  the  schools,  and  presents  his 
matter  in  individual  terms  of  art.  For  awhile 
the  schoolmen  abuse  him  as  a  realist ;  and  in 
twenty  years'  time,  if  his  work  have  life  in  it,  he 
becomes  a  classic.  Constable  was  called  a  realist ; 
so  was  Corot.  Who  calls  these  painters  realists 
now  ?  The  history  of  Japanese  art  affords  a 
continuous  illustration.  From  the  day  when 
Iwasa  Matahei  impudently  arose  and  dared  to 
take  his  subjects  from  the  daily  life  of  the  people, 
to   the   day   when    Hiroshige,   casting    away   the 


PREFACE  ix 

last  rag  of  propriety,  adventurously  drew  a  cast 
shadow,  in  flat  defiance  of  all  the  canons  of  Tosa 
and  Kano — in  all  this  time,  and  through  all  the 
crowded  history  of  the  School  of  Ukioye,  no 
artist  bringing  something  of  his  own  to  his  art 
but  was  damned  for  a  realist.  Even  the  classic 
Harunobu  did  not  escape.  Look  now  at  the 
work  of  these  men,  and  the  label  seems  grotesque 
enough.  So  it  goes  through  the  making  of  all 
art.  A  man  witli  the  courage  of  his  own  vision 
interprets  what  he  sees  in  fresh  terms,  and  gives 
to  things  a  new  reality  and  an  immediate  pre- 
sence. The  schoolmen  peer  with  dulled  eyes 
from  amid  the  heap  of  precedents  and  prescrip- 
tions about  them,  and,  distracted  by  seeing  a 
thing  sanctioned  neither  by  precedent  nor  by  pre- 
scription, dub  the  man  realist,  and  rail  against 
him  for  that  his  work  fits  none  of  their  pigeon- 
holes. And  from  without  the  schools  many  cry 
out  and  complain :  for  truth  is  strong  meat,  and 
the  weakling  stomach  turns  against  it,  except  in 
minim  doses  smothered  in  treacle.  Thus  we 
hear  the  feeble  plea  that  the  function  of  im- 
agination is  the  distortion  of  fact  :  the  piteous 
demand  that  the  artist  should  be  shut  up  in 
a  flower-garden,  and  forbidden  to  peep  through 
the  hedge  into  the  world.  And  they  who  know 
nothing  of  beauty,  who  are  innately  incapable 
of  comprehending  it,  mistake  it  for  mere  pretti- 
ness,  and  call  aloud  for  comfits  ;  and  among  them 
that  cannot  understand,  such  definitions  of  the 
aims  of  art  are  bandied,  as  mean,  if  they  mean 
anything,  that  art  finds  its  most  perfect  expres- 
sion in  pink  lollipops  and  gilt  boxes.  But  in 
c 


X  PREFACE 

the  end  the  truth  prevails,  if  it  be  well  set  forth  ; 
and  the  schoolmen,  groaning  in  their  infinite 
labour,  wearily  write  another  prescription,  admit 
another  precedent,  and  make  another  pigeon-hole. 
I  have  been  asked,  in  print,  if  I  think  that 
there  is  no  phase  of  life  which  the  artist  may 
not  touch.  Most  certainly  I  think  this.  More, 
I  know  it.  It  is  the  artist's  privilege  to  seek 
his  material  where  he  pleases,  and  it  is  no  man's 
privilege  to  say  him  nay.  If  the  community 
have  left  horrible  places  and  horrible  lives  before 
his  eyes,  then  the  fault  is  the  community's  ;  and 
to  picture  these  places  and  these  lives  becomes 
not  merely  his  privilege,  but  his  duty.  It  was 
my  fate  to  encounter  a  place  in  Shoreditch,  where 
children  were  born  and  reared  in  circumstances 
which  gave  them  no  reasonable  chance  of  living 
decent  lives :  where  they  were  born  fore-damned 
to  a  criminal  or  semi-criminal  career.  It  was  my 
experience  to  learn  the  ways  of  this  place,  to  know 
its  inhabitants,  to  talk  with  them,  eat,  drink,  and 
work  with  them.  For  the  existence  of  this  place, 
and  for  the  evils  it  engendered,  the  community 
was,  and  is,  responsible ;  so  that  every  member  of 
the  community  was,  and  is,  responsible  in  his 
degree.  If  I  had  been  a  rich  man  I  might  have 
attempted  to  discharge  my  peculiar  responsibility 
in  one  way ;  if  I  had  been  a  statesman  I  might 
have  tried  another.  Being  neither  of  these  things, 
but  a  mere  writer  of  fiction,  I  sought  to  do  my 
duty  by  writing  a  tale  wherein  I  hoped  to  bring 
the  conditions  of  this  place  within  the  apprehen- 
sion of  others.  There  are  those  who  say  that  I 
should  have  turned  away  my  eyes  and  passed  by 


PREFACE  xi 

on  the  other  side :  on  the  very  respectable  pre- 
cedent of  the  priest  and  the  Levite  in  the  parable. 
Now,  when  the  tale  was  written  and  published 
it  was  found,  as  I  have  said,  to  cause  discomfort 
to  some  persons.  It  is  needless  to  say  more 
of  the  schoolmen.  Needless,  too,  to  say  much 
of  the  merely  genteel :  who  were  shocked  to 
read  of  low  creatures,  as  Kiddo  Cook  and 
Pigeony  Poll,  and  to  find  my  pages  nowhere 
illuminated  by  a  marquis.  Of  such  are  they  who 
delight  to  read  of  two  men  in  velvet  and  feathers 
perforating  each  other's  stomachs  with  swords  ; 
while  Josh  Perrott  and  Billy  Leary,  punching 
each  other's  heads,  present  a  scene  too  sickening 
and  brutal  to  consider  without  disgust.  And  it 
was  in  defiance  of  the  maunderings  of  such  as 
these  that  Charles  Lamb  wrote  much  of  his 
essay  O71  the  Genius  and  Character  of  Hogarth. 
But  chiefly  this  book  of  mine  disturbed  those  who 
had  done  nothing,  and  preferred  to  do  nothing, 
by  way  of  discharging  their  responsibility  toward 
the  Jago  and  the  people  in  it.  The  consciousness 
of  duty  neglected  is  discomforting,  and  personal 
comfort  is  the  god  of  their  kind.  They  firmly 
believe  it  to  be  the  sole  function  of  art  to  minister 
to  their  personal  comfort  —  as  upholstery  does. 
They  find  it  comfortable  to  shirk  consideration 
of  the  fate  of  the  Jago  children,  to  shut  their 
eyes  to  it,  to  say  that  all  is  well  and  the  whole 
world  virtuous  and  happy.  And  this  mental 
attitude  they  nickname  optimism,  and  vaunt  it 
— exult  in  it  as  a  quality.  So  that  they  cry  out 
at  the  suggestion  that  it  is  no  more  than  a  selfish 
vice  ;    and    finding  truth  where  they  had  looked 


xii  PREFACE 

for  the  materials  of  another  debauch  of  self-de- 
lusion, they  moan  aloud  :  they  protest,  and  they 
demand  as  their  sacred  right  that  the  bitter  cup 
be  taken  from  before  them.  They  have  moaned 
and  protested  at  A  Child  of  the  Jago,  and,  craven 
and  bewildered,  any  protest  seemed  good  enough 
to  them.  And  herein  they  have  not  wanted 
for  allies  among  them  that  sit  in  committee- 
rooms,  and  tinker.  For  your  professed  philan- 
thropist, following  his  own  spirit,  and  seeing 
nothing,  honestly  resents  the  demonstration  that 
his  tinkering  profits  little.  There  is  a  story 
current  in  the  East  End  of  London,  of  a  dis- 
tracted lady  who,  being  assailed  with  a  request  for 
the  loan  of  a  saucepan,  defended  herself  in 
these  words : — '  Tell  yer  mother  I  can't  lend  'er 
the  saucepan,  consekince  o'  'avin'  lent  it  to 
Mrs  Brown,  besides  which  I'm  a-usin'  of  it 
meself,  an'  moreover  it's  gone  to  be  mended, 
an'  what's  more  I  ain't  got  one.'  In  a  like 
spirit  of  lavish  objection  it  has  been  proclaimed 
in  a  breath  that  I  transgress: — because  (i)  I 
should  not  have  written  of  the  Jago  in  all  the 
nakedness  of  truth ;  (2)  my  description  is  not 
in  the  least  like ;  (3)  moreover,  it  is  exaggerated  ; 
(4)  though  it  may  be  true,  it  is  quite  unnecessary, 
because  the  Jago  was  already  quite  familiar,  and 
everybody  knew  all  about  it  ;  (5)  the  Jago  houses 
have  been  pulled  down  ;  and  (6)  there  never  was 
any  such  place  as  the  Jago  at  all. 

To  objections  thus  handsomely  variegated  it 
is  not  easy  to  reply  with  the  tripping  brevity 
wherewith  they  may  be  stated ;  and  truly  it  is 
little    reply   that    they   call   for,   except,  perhaps, 


PREFACE  xiii 

in  so  far  as  they  may  be  taken  to  impugn  the 
sincerity  of  my  work  and  the  accuracy  of  my 
picture.  A  few  of  the  objectors  have  caught  up 
enough  of  their  wits  to  strive  after  a  war  in  my 
own  country.  They  take  hold  of  my  technical 
method,  and  accuse  me  of  lack  of  '  sympathy ' ; 
they  claim  that  if  I  write  of  the  Jago  I  should 
do  so  'even  weeping.'  Now,  my  technical  method 
is  my  own,  and  is  deliberately  designed  to  achieve 
a  certain  result,  as  is  the  method  of  every  man — 
painter,  poet,  sculptor,  or  novelist — who  is  not 
the  slave  and  the  plaything  of  his  material.  My 
tale  is  the  tale  of  my  characters,  and  I  have 
learned  better  than  to  thrust  myself  and  my 
emotions  between  them  and  my  reader.  The 
cant  of  the  charge  stares  all  too  plainly  from  the 
face  of  it.  It  is  not  that  these  good  people  wish 
me  to  write  '  even  weeping ' :  for  how  do  they 
know  whether  I  weep  or  not  ?  No :  their  wish 
is,  not  that  I  shall  weep,  but  that  I  shall  weep 
obscenely  in  the  public  gaze.  In  other  words, 
that  I  shall  do  their  weeping  for  them,  as  a 
sort  of  emotional  bedesman  :  that  I  shall  make 
public  parade  of  sympathy  in  their  behalf,  so 
that  they  may  keep  their  own  sympathy  for 
themselves,  and  win  comfort  from  the  belief 
that  they  are  eased  of  their  just  responsibility 
by  vicarious  snivelling. 

But  the  protest,  that  my  picture  of  the  Jago 
is  untrue,  is  another  thing.  For  the  most  part 
it  has  found  very  vague  expression,  but  there 
are  instances  of  rash  excursion  into  definite- 
ness.  Certain  passages  have  been  denoted  as 
exaggerations — as  impossibilities.        Now,  I  must 


xiv  PREFACE 

confess  that,  foreseeing  such  adventurous  indiscre- 
tions, I  had,  for  my  own  diversion,  set  A  Child  of 
the  J  ago  with  traps.  For  certain  years  I  have  Hved 
in  the  East  End  of  London,  and  have  been,  not  an 
occasional  visitor,  but  a  famiHar  and  equal  friend 
in  the  house  of  the  East-Ender  in  all  his  degrees  ; 
for,  though  the  steps  between  be  smaller,  there  are 
more  social  degrees  in  the  East  End  than  ever 
in  the  West.  In  this  experience  I  have  seen 
and  I  have  heard  things  that  persons  sitting  in 
committee-rooms  would  call  diabolical  fable;  never- 
theless, I  have  seen  them,  and  heard  them.  But 
it  was  none  of  my  design  to  write  of  extreme 
instances  :  typical  facts  were  all  I  wanted  ;  these,  I 
knew,  would  be  met — or  shirked — with  incredulity  ; 
so  that,  whenever  I  saw  reason  to  anticipate  a 
charge  of  exaggeration — as  for  instance,  in  the 
matter  of  faction  fighting — I  made  my  typical 
incident  the  cold  transcript  of  a  simple  fact, 
an  ordinary,  easy-going  fact,  a  fact  notorious 
in  the  neighbourhood,  and  capable  of  any 
amount  of  reasonable  proof.  If  I  touched  my 
fact  at  all,  it  was  to  subdue  it  ;  that  and  no  more. 
The  traps  worked  well.  Not  one  definite  charge 
of  exaggeration  has  been  flung  but  it  has  been 
aimed  at  one  of  the  normal  facts  I  had  provided 
as  a  target :  not  one.  Sometimes  the  effect  has 
had  a  humour  of  its  own  ;  as  when  a  critic  in 
a  literary  journal,  beginning  by  selecting  two  of 
my  norms  as  instances  of  '  palpable  exaggeration,' 
went  on  to  assure  me  that  there  was  no  need  to 
describe  such  life  as  the  life  in  the  Jago,  because 
it  was  already  perfectly  familiar  to  everybody. 
Luckily  I  need  not  vindicate  my  accuracy.    That 


PREFACE  XV 

has  been  done  for  me  publicly  by  independent 
and  altogether  indisputable  authority.  In  par- 
ticular, the  devoted  vicar  of  the  parish,  which 
I  have  called  the  Jago,  has  testified  quite  unre- 
servedly to  the  truth  of  my  presentation.  Others 
also,  with  special  knowledge,  have  done  the  same ; 
and  though  I  refer  to  them,  and  am  grateful  for 
their  support,  it  is  with  no  prejudice  to  the  validity 
of  my  own  authority.  For  not  only  have  I  lived 
in  the  East  End  of  London  (which  one  may  do, 
and  yet  never  see  it)  but  observation  is  my  trade. 

I  have  remarked  in  more  than  one  place  the 
expression  of  a  foolish  fancy  that  because  the 
houses  of  the  Old  Jago  have  been  pulled  down, 
the  Jago  difficulty  has  been  cleared  out  of  the  way. 
That  is  far  from  being  the  case.  The  Jago,  as 
mere  bricks  and  mortar,  is  gone.  But  the  Jago 
in  flesh  and  blood  still  lives,  and  is  crowding 
into  neighbourhoods  already  densely  over-popu- 
lated. 

In  conclusion  :  the  plan  and  the  intention  of 
my  story  made  it  requisite  that,  in  telling  it, 
I  should  largely  adhere  to  fact ;  and  I  did  so. 
If  I  write  other  tales  different  in  scope  and 
design,  I  shall  adhere  to  fact  or  neglect  it  as 
may  seem  good  to  me :  regardless  of  anybody's 
classification  as  a  realist,  or  as  anything  else. 
For  though  I  have  made  a  suggestion,  right  or 
wrong,  as  to  what  a  realist  may  be,  whether  I 
am  one  or  not  is  no  concern  of  mine;  but  the 
concern  (if  it  be  anybody's)  of  the  tabulators 
and  the  watersifters. 

A.  M. 

February  1897. 


IheOid  JaQ^o 

Sketch  Plan 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

I 

IT  was  past  the  mid  of  a  summer  night  in  the 
Old  Jago.  The  narrow  street  was  all  the 
blacker  for  the  lurid  sky ;  for  there  was  a  fire  in 
a  farther  part  of  Shoreditch,  and  the  welkin  was 
an  infernal  coppery  glare.  Below,  the  hot,  heavy 
air  lay,  a  rank  oppression,  on  the  contorted 
forms  of  those  who  made  for  sleep  on  the 
pavement :  and  in  it,  and  through  it  all,  there 
rose  from  the  foul  earth  and  the  grimed  walls 
a  close,  mingled  stink — the  odour  of  the  Jago. 

From  where,  off  Shoreditch  High  Street,  a 
narrow  passage,  set  across  with  posts,  gave 
menacing  entrance  on  one  end  of  Old  Jago 
Street,   to   where    the    other    end    lost    itself    in 


2  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

the  black  beyond  Jago  Row  ;  from  where  Jago 
Row  began  south  at  Meakin  Street,  to  where 
it  ended  north  at  Honey  Lane — there  the  Jago, 
for  one  hundred  years  the  blackest  pit  in  London, 
lay  and  festered;  and  half-way  along  Old  Jago 
Street  a  narrow  archway  gave  upon  Jago  Court, 
the  blackest  hole  in  all  that  pit. 

A  square  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  or 
less — that  was  all  there  was  of  the  Jago.  But 
in  that  square  the  human  population  swarmed 
in  thousands.  Old  Jago  Street,  New  Jago  Street, 
Half  Jago  Street  lay  parallel,  east  and  west: 
Jago  Row  at  one  end  and  Edge  Lane  at  the 
other  lay  parallel  also,  stretching  north  and 
south :  foul  ways  all.  What  was  too  vile  for 
Kate  Street,  Seven  Dials,  and  Ratclifif  Highway 
in  its  worst  day,  what  was  too  useless,  incapable 
and  corrupt — all  that  teemed  in  the  Old  Jago. 

Old  Jago  Street  lay  black  and  close  under 
the  quivering  red  sky ;  and  slinking  forms,  as 
of  great  rats,  followed  one  another  quickly 
between  the  posts  in  the  gut  by  the  High  Street, 
and  scattered  over  the  Jago.  For  the  crowd 
about   the   fire   was    now   small,   the    police   was 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  3 

there  in  force,  and  every  safe  pocket  had  been 
tried.  Soon  the  incursion  ceased,  and  the  sky, 
flickering  and  brightening  no  longer,  settled  to 
a  sullen  flush.  On  the  pavement  some  writhed 
wearily,  longing  for  sleep ;  others,  despairing  of 
it,  sat  and  lolled,  and  a  few  talked.  They  were 
not  there  for  lack  of  shelter,  but  because  in 
this  weather  repose  was  less  unlikely  in  the 
street  than  within  doors :  and  the  lodgings  of 
the  few  who  nevertheless  abode  at  home  were 
marked  here  and  there  by  the  lights  visible 
from  the  windows.  For  in  this  place  none  ever 
slept  without  a  light,  because  of  three  kinds  of 
vermin  that  light  in  some  sort  keeps  at  bay: 
vermin  which  added  to  existence  here  a  terror 
not  to  be  guessed  by  <-he  unafflicted  :  who  object 
to  being  told  of  it.  For  on  them  that  lay  writhen 
and  gasping  on  the  pavement;  on  them  that 
sat  among  them ;  on  them  that  rolled  and 
blasphemed  in  the  lighted  rooms ;  on  every 
moving  creature  in  this,  the  Old  Jago,  day  and 
night,  sleeping  and  walking,  the  third  plague 
of  Egypt,  and  more,  lay  unceasing. 

The  stifling  air  took  a  further  oppression  from 


4  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

the  red  sky.  By  the  dark  entrance  to  Jago 
Court  a  man  rose,  flinging  out  an  oath,  and 
sat  with  his  head  bowed  in  his  hands. 

'  Ah — h — h — h,'  he  said.  '  I  wish  I  was  dead  : 
an'  kep'  a  cawfy  shop.'  He  looked  aside  from 
his  hands  at  his  neighbours ;  but  Kiddo  Cook's 
ideal  of  heaven  was  no  new  thing,  and  the  sole 
answer  was  a  snort  from  a  dozing  man  a  yard 
away. 

Kiddo  Cook  felt  in  his  pocket  and  produced 
a  pipe  and  a  screw  of  paper.  '  This  is  a  bleed'n' 
unsocial  sort  o'  evenin'  party,  this  is,'  he  said, 
'An'  'ere's  the  on'y  real  toff  in  the  mob  with 
ardly  'arf  a  pipeful  left,  an'  no  lights.  D'  y'  'ear, 
me  lord' — leaning  toward  the  dozing  neighbour 
— 'got  a  match?' 

'  Go  t'  'ell ! ' 

'  O  wot  'orrid  langwidge !  It's  shocking,  blimy. 
Arter  that  y'  ought  to  find  me  a  match. 
Come  on.' 

'Go  t'  'ell!' 

A  lank,  elderly  man,  who  sat  with  his  back 
to  the  wall,  pushed  up  a  battered  tall  hat  from 
his    eyes,    and,    producing    a    box    of    matches, 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  5 

exclaimed  '  Hell  ?  And  how  far's  that  ?  You're 
in  it!'  He  flung  abroad  a  bony  hand,  and 
glanced  upward.  Over  his  forehead  a  greasy 
black  curl  dangled  and  shook  as  he  shuddered 
back  against  the  wall.  '  My  God,  there  can 
be  no  hell  after  this  1 ' 

*Ah,'  Kiddo  Cook  remarked,  as  he  lit  his 
pipe  in  the  hollow  of  his  hands,  '  that's  a  comfort, 
Mr  Beveridge,  any'ow.'  He  returned  the  matches, 
and  the  old  man,  tilting  his  hat  forward,  was 
silent. 

A  woman,  gripping  a  shawl  about  her  shoulders, 
came  furtively  along  from  the  posts,  with  a 
man  walking  in  her  tracks — a  little  unsteadily. 
He  was  not  of  the  Jago,  but  a  decent  young 
workman,  by  his  dress.  The  sight  took  Kiddo 
Cook's  idle  eye,  and  when  the  couple  had  passed, 
he  said  meditatively :  *  There's  Billy  Leary  in 
luck  ag'in  :  'is  missis  do  pick  'em  up,  s'elp  me. 
I'd  carry  the  cosh  meself  if  I'd  got  a  woman 
like  'er.' 

Cosh-carrying  was  near  to  being  the  major 
industry  of  the  Jago.  The  cosh  was  a  foot 
length  of  iron  rod,  with  a  knob  at  one  end,  and 


0  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

a  hook  (or  a  ring)  at  the  other.  The  craftsman, 
carrying  it  in  his  coat  sleeve,  waited  about 
dark  staircase  corners  till  his  wife  (married  or 
not)  brought  in  a  well  drunken  stranger :  when, 
with  a  sudden  blow  behind  the  head,  the  stranger 
was  happily  coshed,  and  whatever  was  found  on 
him  as  he  lay  insensible  was  the  profit  on  the 
transaction.  In  the  hands  of  capable  practitioners 
this  industry  yielded  a  comfortable  subsistence 
for  no  great  exertion.  Most,  of  course,  depended 
on  the  woman  :  whose  duty  it  was  to  keep  the 
other  artist  going  in  subjects.  There  were  legends 
of  surprising  ingatherings  achieved  by  wives  of 
especial  diligence :  one  of  a  woman  who  had 
brought  to  the  cosh  some  six-and-twenty  on  a 
night  of  public  rejoicing.  This  was,  however, 
a  story  years  old,  and  may  have  been  no  more 
than  an  exemplary  fiction,  designed,  like  a  Sunday 
School  book,  to  convey  a  counsel  of  perfection 
to  the  dutiful  matrons  of  the  Old  Jago. 

The  man  and  woman  vanished  in  a  doorway 
near  the  Jago  Row  end,  where,  for  some  reason, 
dossers  were  fewer  than  about  the  portal  of 
Jago  Court.     There   conversation    flagged,  and   a 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  7 

broken  snore  was  heard.  It  was  a  quiet  night, 
as  quietness  was  counted  in  the  Jago;  for  it 
was  too  hot  for  most  to  fight  in  that  stifling 
air — too  hot  to  do  more  than  turn  on  the  stones 
and  swear.  Still  the  last  hoarse  yelps  of  a 
combat  of  women  came  intermittently  from  Half 
Jago  Street  in  the  further  confines. 

In  a  little  while  something  large  and  dark  was 
pushed  forth  from  the  door-opening  near  Jago 
Row  which  Billy  Leary's  spouse  had  entered. 
The  thing  rolled  over,  and  lay  tumbled  on  the 
pavement,  for  a  time  unnoted.  It  might  have 
been  yet  another  would-be  sleeper,  but  for  its 
stillness.  Just  such  a  thing  it  seemed,  belike, 
to  two  that  lifted  their  heads  and  peered  from 
a  few  yards  off,  till  they  rose  on  hands  and 
knees  and  crept  to  where  it  lay:  Jago  rats  both. 
A  man  it  was ;  with  a  thick  smear  across  his 
face,  and  about  his  head  the  source  of  the  dark 
trickle  that  sought  the  gutter  deviously  over 
the  broken  flags.  The  drab  stuff  of  his  pockets 
peeped  out  here  and  there  in  a  crumpled  bunch, 
and  his  waistcoat  gaped  where  the  watch-guard 
had  been.     Clearly,  here  was  an  uncommonly  re- 


8  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

munerative  cosh — a  cosh  so  good  that  the  boots 
had  been  neglected,  and  remained  on  the  man's 
feet.  These  the  kneeling  two  unlaced  deftly, 
and,  rising,  prize  in  hand,  vanished  in  the  deeper 
shadow  of  Jago  Row. 

A  small  boy,  whom  they  met  full  tilt  at  the 
corner,  staggered  out  to  the  gutter  and  flung  a 
veteran  curse  after  them.  He  was  a  slight  child, 
by  whose  size  you  might  have  judged  his  age  at 
five.  But  his  face  was  of  serious  and  troubled  age. 
One  who  knew  the  children  of  the  Jago,  and  could 
tell,  might  have  held  him  eight,  or  from  that  to 
nine. 

He  replaced  his  hands  in  his  trousers  pockets, 
and  trudged  up  the  street.  As  he  brushed  by  the 
coshed  man  he  glanced  again  toward  Jago  Row, 
and,  jerking  his  thumb  that  way,  '  Done  'im  for  'is 
boots,'  he  piped.  But  nobody  marked  him  till  he 
reached  Jago  Court,  when  old  Beveridge,  push- 
ing back  his  hat  once  more,  called  sweetly  and 
silkily,  '  Dicky  Perrott ! '  and  beckoned  with  his 
finger. 

The  boy  approached,  and  as  he  did  so  the  man's 
skeleton  hand  suddenly  shot  out  and  gripped  him 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  9 

by  the  collar.  '  It — never — does — to — see — too — 
much ! '  Beveridge  said,  in  a  series  of  shouts,  close 
to  the  boy's  ear,  '  Now  go  home,'  he  added,  in 
a  more  ordinary  tone,  with  a  push  to  make  his 
meaning  plain :  and  straightway  relapsed  against 
the  wall. 

The  boy  scowled  and  backed  off  the  pavement. 
His  ragged  jacket  was  coarsely  made  from  one 
much  larger,  and  he  hitched  the  collar  over 
his  shoulder  as  he  shrank  toward  a  doorway 
some  few  yards  on.  Front  doors  were  used 
merely  as  firewood  in  the  Old  Jago,  and  most 
had  been  burnt  there  many  years  ago.  If 
perchance  one  could  have  been  found  still  on 
its  hinges,  it  stood  ever  open  and  probably 
would  not  shut.  Thus  at  night  the  Jago  door- 
ways were  a  row  of  black  holes,  foul  and 
forbidding. 

Dicky  Perrott  entered  his  hole  with  caution, 
for  anywhere,  in  the  passage  and  on  the  stairs, 
somebody  might  be  lying  drunk,  against  whom 
it  would  be  unsafe  to  stumble.  He  found  no- 
body, however,  and  climbed  and  reckoned  his 
way  up  the  first  stair-flight   with   the   necessary 


lo  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

regard  for  the  treads  that  one  might  step  through 
and  the  rails  that  had  gone  from  the  side.  Then 
he  pushed  open  the  door  of  the  first-floor  back 
and  was  at  home. 

A  Httle  heap  of  guttering  grease,  not  long 
ago  a  candle  end,  stood  and  spread  on  the 
mantel-piece,  and  gave  irregular  light  from  its 
drooping  wick.  A  thin-railed  iron  bedstead, 
bent  and  staggering,  stood  against  a  wall,  and 
on  its  murky  coverings  a  half-dressed  woman 
sat  and  neglected  a  baby  that  lay  by  her,  griev- 
ing and  wheezing.  The  woman  had  a  long 
dolorous  face,  empty  of  expression  and  weak 
of  mouth. 

'  Where  'a'  you  bin,  Dicky  ?  '  she  asked,  rather 
complaining  than  asking.  '  It's  sich  low  hours 
for  a  boy.' 

Dicky  glanced  about  the  room.  '  Got  any- 
think  to  eat  ? '   he  asked. 

*  I  dunno,'  she  answered  listlessly.  '  P'raps 
there's  a  bit  o'  bread  in  the  cupboard.  I  don't 
want  nothin',  it's  so  'ot.  An'  father  ain't  bin 
'ome  since  tea-time.' 

The  boy  rummaged  and  found  a  crust.     Gnaw- 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  ii 

ing  at  this,  he  crossed  to  where  the  baby  lay. 
"Ullo,  Looey,'  he  said,  bending  and  patting 
the  muddy  cheek.     "Ullo!' 

The  baby  turned  feebly  on  its  back,  and  set  up 
a  thin  wail.  Its  eyes  were  large  and  bright,  its 
tiny  face  was  piteously  flea-bitten  and  strangely 
old.  '  Wy,  she's  'ungry,  mother,'  said  Dicky 
Perrott,  and  took  the  little  thing  up. 

He  sat  on  a  small  box,  and  rocked  the  baby 
on  his  knees,  feeding  it  with  morsels  of  chewed 
bread.  The  mother,  dolefully  inert,  looked 
on  and  said  :  '  She's  that  backward  I'm  quite 
wore  out ;  more  'n  ten  months  old,  an'  don't 
even  crawl  yut.  It's  a  never-endin'  trouble,  is 
children.' 

She  sighed,  and  presently  stretched  herself  on 
the  bed.  The  boy  rose,  and  carrying  his  little 
sister  with  care,  for  she  was  dozing,  essayed  to 
look  through  the  grimy  window.  The  dull  flush 
still  spread  overhead,  but  Jago  Court  lay  darkling 
below,  with  scarce  a  sign  of  the  ruinous  back 
yards  that  edged  it  on  this  and  the  opposite  sides, 
and  nothing  but  blackness  between. 

The  boy  returned  to  his  box,  and  sat.     Then 


12  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

he   said :    '  I    don't   s'pose   father's   'avin'   a   sleep 
outside,  eh?' 

The  woman  sat  up  with  some  show  of  energy. 
Wot  ? '  she  said  sharply.  '  Sleep  out  in  the 
street  like  them  low  Ranns  an'  Learys  ?  I  should 
'ope  not.  It's  bad  enough  livin'  'ere  at  all,  an* 
me  being  used  to  different  things  once,  an'  all. 
You  ain't  seen  'im  outside,  'ave  ye  ? ' 

*  No,  I  ain't  seen  'im :  I  jist  looked  in  the 
court'  Then,  after  a  pause :  *  I  'ope  'e's  done  a 
click,'  the  boy  said. 

His  mother  winced.  '  I  dunno  wot  you  mean, 
Dicky,'  she  said,  but  falteringly,  '  You — you're 
gittin'  that  low  an'  an' — ' 

'  Wy,  copped  somethink,  o'  course.  Nicked 
somethink.     You  know.' 

*  If  you  say  sich  things  as  that  I'll  tell  'im 
wot  you  say,  an'  'e'll  pay  you.  We  ain't  that 
sort  o'  people,  Dicky,  you  ought  to  know  I 
was  alwis  kep'  respectable  an'  straight  all  my 
life,  I'm  sure,  an' — ' 

'  I  know.  You  said  so  before,  to  father — I 
'card :  w'en  'e  brought  'ome  that  there  yuller 
prop — the   necktie   pin.       Wy,   where   did   'e   git 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  13 

that  ?  'E  ain't  'ad  a  job  for  munse  and  munse  : 
Where's  the  yannups  come  from  wot's  bin  for  to 
pay  the  rent,  an'  git  the  toke,  an'  milk  for  Looey  ? 
Think  I  dunno?     I  ain't  a  kid.     I  know.' 

*  Dicky,  Dicky  !  you  mustn't  say  sich  things  ! ' 
was  all  the  mother  could  find  to  say,  with  tears 
in  her  slack  eyes.  '  It's  wicked  an' — an'  low. 
An'  you  must  alwis  be  respectable  an'  straight, 
Dicky,  an'  you'll — you'll  git  on  then.' 

*  Straight  people's  fools,  /  reckon.  Kiddo  Cook 
says  that,  an'  'e's  as  wide  as  Broad  Street.  Wen 
I  grow  up  I'm  goin'  to  git  toffs'  clo'es  an'  be 
in  the  'igh  mob.     They  does  big  clicks.' 

'They  git  put  in  a  dark  prison  for  years  an' 
years,  Dicky — an' — an'  if  you're  sich  a  wicked 
low  boy,  father  '11  give  you  the  strap — 'ard,'  the 
mother  returned,  with  what  earnestness  she  might. 
'Gimme  the  baby,  an'  you  go  to  bed,  go  on; 
'fore  father  comes.' 

Dicky  handed  over  the  baby,  whose  wizen 
face  was  now  relaxed  in  sleep,  and  slowly  dis- 
encumbered himself  of  the  ungainly  jacket,  staring 
at  the  wall  in  a  brown  study.  '  It's  the  mugs 
wot  git  took,'  he  said,  absently.      'An'  quoddin' 


14  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

ain't  so  bad.'  Then,  after  a  pause,  he  turned 
and  added  suddenly  :  *  S'pose  father  '11  be  smugged 
some  day,  eh,  mother?' 

His  mother  made  no  reply,  but  bent  languidly 
over  the  baby,  with  an  indefinite  pretence  of 
settling  it  in  a  place  on  the  bed.  Soon  Dicky 
himself,  in  the  short  and  ragged  shirt  he  had 
worn  under  the  jacket,  burrowed  head  first 
among  the  dingy  coverings  at  the  foot,  and 
protruding  his  head  at  the  further  side,  took 
his  accustomed  place  crosswise  at  the  extreme 
end. 

The  filthy  ceiling  lit  and  darkened  by  fits  as 
the  candle-wick  fell  and  guttered  to  its  end. 
He  heard  his  mother  rise  and  find  another 
fragment  of  candle  to  light  by  its  expiring 
flame,  but  he  lay  still  wakeful.  After  a  time 
he  asked :  '  Mother,  why  don't  you  come  to 
bed?' 

'  Waitin'  for  father.     Go  to  sleep.' 

He  was  silent  for  a  little.  But  brain  and  eyes 
were  wide  awake,  and  soon  he  spoke  again. 
*  Them  noo  'uns  in  the  front  room,'  he  said. 
♦Ain't  the  man  give  'is  wife  a  'idin'  yut?' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  15 

'No.' 

*  Nor  yut  the  boy — 'umpty-backed  'un  ? ' 

'No.' 

'  Seems  they're  mighty  pertickler.  Fancy 
theirselves  too  good  for  their  neighbours ;  I 
'eard  Pigeony  Poll  say  that  ;   on'y  Poll  said — ' 

'You  mustn't  never  listen  to  Pigeony  Poll, 
Dicky.  Ain't  you  'eard  me  say  so  ?  Go  to 
sleep.  'Ere  comes  father.'  There  was,  indeed, 
a  step  on  the  stairs,  but  it  passed  the  landing, 
and  went  on  to  the  top  floor.  Dicky  lay  awake, 
but  silent,  gazing  upward  and  back  through  the 
dirty  window  just  over  his  head.  It  was  very 
hot,  and  he  fidgeted  uncomfortably,  fearing  to 
turn  or  toss  lest  the  baby  should  wake  and  cry. 
There  came  a  change  in  the  hue  of  the  sky,  and 
he  watched  the  patch  within  his  view,  until  the 
red  seemed  to  gather  in  spots,  and  fade  a  spot 
at  a  time.  Then  at  last  there  was  a  tread 
on  the  stairs,  that  stayed  at  the  door;  and 
father  had  come  home.  Dicky  lay  still,  and 
listened. 

'  Lor,  Josh,  where  ye  bin  ? '  Dicky  heard  his 
mother  say.     *  I'm  almost  wore  out  a-waitin'.' 


i6  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

'  Awright,  awright ' — this  in  a  hoarse  grunt, 
little  above  a  whisper.  '  Got  any  water  up  'ere  ? 
Wash  this  'ere  stick.' 

There  was  a  pause,  wherein  Dicky  knew  his 
mother  looked  about  her  in  vacant  doubt  as  to 
whether  or  not  water  was  in  the  room.  Then 
a  quick,  undertoned  scream,  and  the  stick  rattled 
heavily  on  the  floor.  '  It's  sticky ! '  his  mother 
said.  *0  my  Gawd,  Josh,  look  at  that  —  an' 
bits  o'  'air,  too ! '  The  great  shadow  of  an  open 
hand  shot  up  across  the  ceiling  and  fell  again. 
'  O  Josh  !  O  my  Gawd  !  You  ain't,  'ave  ye  ? 
Not— not— not  that?' 

*  Not  wot  ?  Gawblimy,  not  what  ?  Shutcher 
mouth.  If  a  man  fights,  you're  got  to  fight 
back,  ain'  cher?  Any  one  'ud  think  it  was  a 
murder,  to  look  at  ye.  I  ain't  sich  a  damn 
fool  as  that.     'Ere — pull  up  that  board.' 

Dicky  knew  the  loose  floor-board  that  was 
lifted  with  a  slight  groaning  jar.  It  was  to  the 
right  of  the  hearth,  and  he  had  shammed  sleep 
when  it  had  been  lifted  once  before.  His  mother 
whimpered  and  cried  quietly.  '  You'll  git  in 
trouble.   Josh,'    she   said.      '  I    wish   you'd   git    a 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  17 

reg'lar  job,   Josh,   like    what   you   used — I    do — 
I  do.' 

The  board  was  shut  down  again.  Dicky 
Perrott  through  one  opened  eye  saw  the  sky 
a  pale  grey  above,  and  hoped  the  click  had 
been  a  good  one :  hoped  also  that  it  might 
bring  bullock's  liver  for  dinner. 

Out  in  the  Jago  the  pale  dawn  brought  a 
cooler  air  and  the  chance  of  sleep.  From  the 
paving  of  Old  Jago  Street  sad  grey  faces,  open- 
mouthed,  looked  upward  as  from  the  Valley  of 
Dry  Bones.  Down  by  Jago  Row  the  coshed 
subject,  with  the  blood  dry  on  his  face,  felt 
the  colder  air,  and  moved  a  leg. 


II 

TH REE-quarters  of  a  mile  east  of  the  Jago's 
outermost  limit  was  the  East  End  Eleva- 
tion Mission  and  Pansophical  Institute  :  such 
was  the  amazing  success  whereof,  that  a  new 
wing  had  been  built,  and  was  now  to  be  de- 
clared open  by  a  Bishop  of  great  eminence 
and  industry. 

The  triumphs  ol  the  East  End  Elevation 
Mission  and  Pansophical  Institute  were  known 
and  appreciated  far  from  East  London,  by  people 
who  knew  less  of  that  part  than  of  Asia  Minor. 
Indeed,  they  were  chiefly  appreciated  by  these. 
There  were  kept,  perpetually  on  tap  for  the 
aspiring  East  Ender,  the  Higher  Life,  the  Greater 
Thought,  and  the  Wider  Humanity  :  with  other 
radiant   abstractions,  mostly   in    the   comparative 

degree,  specifics  all   for   the   manufacture  of  the 

iS 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  19 

Superior  Person.  There  were  many  Lectures 
given  on  still  more  subjects.  Pictures  were 
borrowed  and  shown,  with  revelations  to  the 
Uninformed  of  the  morals  ingeniously  concealed 
by  the  painters.  The  Uninformed  were  also 
encouraged  to  debate  and  to  produce  papers  on 
literary  and  political  matters,  while  still  un- 
encumbered with  the  smallest  knowledge  thereof: 
for  the  Enlargement  of  the  Understanding  and 
the  Embellishment  of  the  Intellect.  And  there 
were  classes,  and  clubs,  and  newspapers,  and 
games  of  draughts,  and  musical  evenings,  and 
a  brass  band,  whereby  the  life  of  the  Hopeless 
Poor  might  be  coloured,  and  the  Misery  of  the 
Submerged  alleviated.  The  wretches  who  crowded 
to  these  benefits  were  tradesmen's  sons,  small 
shopkeepers  and  their  families,  and  neat  clerks, 
with  here  and  there  a  smart  young  artisan  of 
one  of  the  especially  respectable  trades.  They 
freely  patronised  the  clubs,  the  musical  evenings, 
the  brass  band,  and  the  bagatelle  board;  and 
those  who  took  themselves  seriously  debated 
and  Mutually-Improved  with  pomp.  Others, 
subject  to  savage  fits    of  wanting-to-know,    made 


20  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

short  rushes  at  random  evening  classes,  with 
intervals  of  disgusted  apathy.  Altogether,  a 
number  of  decently-dressed  and  mannerly  young 
men  passed  many  evenings  at  the  Pansophical 
Institute  in  harmless  pleasures,  and  often  with 
an  agreeable  illusion  of  intellectual  advance. 

Other  young  men,  more  fortunately  circum- 
stanced, with  the  educational  varnish  fresh  and 
raw  upon  them,  came  from  afar,  equipped  with 
a  foreign  mode  of  thought  and  a  proper  ignor- 
ance of  the  world  and  the  proportions  of  things, 
as  Missionaries.  Not  without  some  anxiety  to 
their  parents,  they  plunged  into  the  perilous 
deeps  of  the  East  End,  to  struggle — for  a 
fortnight — with  its  suffering  and  its  brutishness. 
So  they  went  among  the  tradesmen's  sons  and 
the  shopmen,  who  endured  them  as  they  endured 
the  nominal  subscription  ;  and  they  came  away 
with  a  certain  relief,  and  with  some  misgiving  as 
to  what  impression  they  had  made,  and  what  they 
had  done  to  make  it.  But  it  was  with  knowledge 
and  authority  that  they  went  back  among  those 
who  had  doubted  their  personal  safety  in  the 
dark    region.       The    East    End,    they    reported, 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  21 

was  nothing  like  what  it  was  said  to  be.  You 
could  see  much  worse  places  up  West.  The 
people  were  quite  a  decent  sort,  in  their  way : 
shocking  Bounders,  of  course ;  but  quite  clean 
and  quiet,  and  very  comfortably  dressed,  with 
ties  and  collars  and  watches. 

But  the  Missionaries  were  few,  and  the  sub- 
scribers to  the  Elevation  Mission  were  many. 
Most  had  been  convinced,  by  what  they  had 
been  told,  by  what  they  had  read  in  charity 
appeals,  and  perhaps  by  what  they  had  seen 
in  police-court  and  inquest  reports,  that  the 
whole  East  End  was  a  wilderness  of  slums : 
slum.s  packed  with  starving  human  organisms 
without  minds  and  without  morals,  preying  on 
each  other  alive.  These  subscribers  visited  the 
Institute  by  twos  and  threes,  on  occasions  of 
particular  festivity  among  the  neat  clerks,  and 
were  astonished  at  the  wonderful  effects  of 
Pansophic  Elevation  on  the  degraded  classes, 
their  aspect  and  their  habits.  Perhaps  it  was 
a  concert  where  nobody  was  drunk :  perhaps  a 
little  dance  where  nobody  howled  a  chorus,  nor 
wore   his    hat,    nor    punched   his   partner   in   the 


22  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

eye.  It  was  a  great  marvel,  whereunto  the 
observers  testified :  so  that  more  subscriptions 
came,  and  the  new  wing  was  built. 

The  afternoon  was  bright,  and  all  was  promis- 
ing. A  small  crowd  of  idlers  hung  about  the 
main  door  of  the  Institute,  and  stared  at  a 
string  of  flags.  Away  to  the  left  stood  the  new 
wing,  a  face  of  fair,  clean  brick  ;  the  ornamenta- 
tion, of  approved  earnestness,  in  terra  -  cotta 
squares  at  regular  intervals.  Within  sat  many 
friends  and  relations  of  the  shopmen  and 
superior  mechanics,  and  waited  for  the  Bishop ; 
the  Eminences  of  the  Elevation  Mission  sitting 
apart  on  the  platform.  Without,  among  the 
idlers,  waited  Dicky  Perrott.  His  notions  of 
what  were  going  on  were  indistinct,  but  he  had 
a  belief,  imbibed  through  rumour  and  tradition, 
that  all  celebrations  at  such  large  buildings 
were  accompanied  by  the  consumption,  in  the 
innermost  recesses,  of  cake  and  tea.  Even  to 
be  near  cake  was  something.  In  Shoreditch 
High  Street  was  a  shop  where  cake  stood  in 
the  window  in  great  slabs,  one  slab  over  another, 
to    an    incalculable    value.       At    this    window — 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  23 

against  it,  as  near  as  possible,  his  face  flattened 
white — Dicky  would  stand  till  the  shopkeeper 
drove  him  off:  till  he  had  but  to  shut  his  eyes 
to  see  once  more,  in  the  shifting  black,  the  rich 
yellow  sections  with  their  myriad  raisins.  Once 
a  careless  errand-boy,  who  had  bought  a  slice, 
took  so  clumsy  a  bite  as  he  emerged  that  near 
a  third  of  the  whole  piece  broke  and  fell ;  and 
this  Dicky  had  snatched  from  the  paving  and 
bolted  with,  ere  the  owner  quite  saw  his  loss 
This  was  a  superior  sort  of  cake,  at  a  penny. 
But  once  he  had  managed  to  buy  himself  a 
slice  of  an  inferior  sort  for  a  halfpenny,  in 
Meakin  Street. 

Dicky  Perrott,  these  blessed  memories  in  his 
brain,  stood  unobtrusively  near  the  door,  with 
the  big  jacket  buttoned  over  as  decently  as 
might  be,  full  of  a  desperate  design  :  which  was 
to  get  inside  by  whatsoever  manner  of  trick  or 
opportunity  he  might,  and  so,  if  it  were  humanly 
possible,  to  the  cake. 

The  tickets  were  being  taken  at  the  door  by 
an  ardent  young  Elevator  —  one  of  the 
missionaries.      Him,    and    all   such   washed    and 


24  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

well-dressed  people,  Dicky  had  learnt  to  hold 
in  serene  contempt  when  the  business  in  hand 
was  dodging.  There  was  no  hurry :  the  Elevator 
might  waste  his  vigilance  on  the  ticket-holders 
for  some  time  yet.  And  Dicky  knew  better 
than  to  betray  the  smallest  sign  of  a  desire  for 
entrance  while  his  enemy's  attention  was  awake. 

Carriages  drew  up,  and  yielded  more  Eminences: 
toward  the  end  the  Bishop  himself,  whom  Dicky 
observed  but  as  a  pleasant-looking  old  gentleman 
in  uncommon  clothes ;  and  on  whom  he  bestowed 
no  more  thought  than  a  passing  wonder  at  what 
might  be  the  accident  to  his  hat  which  had 
necessitated  its  repair  with  string. 

But  at  the  spikes  of  the  Bishop's  carriage 
came  another;  and  out  of  that  there  got  three 
ladies,  friends  of  the  ticket-receiver,  on  whom 
they  closed,  greeting  and  shaking  hands;  and 
in  a  flash  Dicky  Perrott  was  beyond  the  lobby 
and  moving  obscurely  along  the  walls  of  the 
inner  hall,  behind  pillars  and  in  shadow,  seek- 
ing cake. 

The  Choral  Society  sang  their  lustiest,  and 
there  were  speeches.     Eminences  expressed  their 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  25 

surprise  and  delight  at  finding  the  people  of 
the  East  End,  gathered  in  the  Institute  build- 
ing, so  respectable  and  clean,  thanks  to  persistent, 
indefatigable,  unselfish  Elevation. 

The  good  Bishop,  amid  clapping  of  hands  and 
fluttering  of  handkerchiefs,  piped  cherubically  of 
everything.  He  rejoiced  to  see  that  day,  whereon 
the  helping  hand  of  the  West  was  so  unmistak- 
ably made  apparent  in  the  East.  He  rejoiced 
also  to  find  himself  in  the  midst  of  so  admirably 
typical  an  assemblage — so  representative,  if  he 
might  say  so,  of  that  great  East  End  of  London, 
thirsting  and  crying  out  for — for  Elevation  :  for 
that — ah — Elevation  which  the  more  fortunately 
circumstanced  denizens  of — of  other  places,  had 
so  munificently — laid  on.  The  people  of  the 
East  End  had  been  sadly  misrepresented — in 
popular  periodicals  and  in — in  other  ways.  The 
East  End,  he  was  convinced,  was  not  so  black 
as  it  was  painted.  (Applause.)  He  had  but 
to  look  about  him.  Etcetera,  etcetera.  He 
questioned  whether  so  well-conducted,  morally- 
given,  and  respectable  a  gathering  could  be 
brought  together   in   any  West    End  parish  with 


26  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

which  he  was  acquainted.  It  was  his  most 
pleasant  duty  on  this  occasion — and  so  on  and 
so  forth. 

Dicky  Perrott  had  found  the  cake.  It  was 
in  a  much  smaller  room  at  the  back  of  the  hall, 
wherein  it  was  expected  that  the  Bishop  and 
certain  Eminences  of  the  platform  would  refresh 
themselves  with  tea  after  the  ceremony.  There 
were  heavy,  drooping  curtains  at  the  door  of 
this  room,  and  deep  from  the  largest  folds  the 
ratling  from  the  J  ago  watched.  The  table  was 
guarded  by  a  sour-faced  man — ^just  such  a  man 
as  drove  him  from  the  window  of  the  cake  shop 
in  Shoreditch  High  Street.  Nobody  else  was 
there  yet,  and  plainly  the  sour-faced  man  must 
be  absent  or  busy  ere  the  cake  could  be  got  at. 

There  was  a  burst  of  applause  in  the  hall  : 
the  new  wing  had  been  declared  open.  Then 
there  was  more  singing,  and  after  that  much 
shuffling  and  tramping,  for  everybody  was  free 
to  survey  the  new  rooms  on  the  way  out ;  and 
the  Importances  from  the  platform  came  to  find 
the  tea. 

Filling  the  room  and  standing  about   in   little 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  27 

groups  ;  chatting,  munching,  and  sipping,  while 
the  sour-faced  man  distractedly  floundered  amid 
crockery :  not  a  soul  of  them  all  perceived  an 
inconsiderable  small  boy,  ducking  and  dodging 
vaguely  among  legs  and  round  skirts,  making, 
from  time  to  time,  a  silent  snatch  at  a  plate  on 
the  table  :  and  presently  he  vanished  altogether. 
Then  the  amiable  Bishop,  beaming  over  the 
tea-cup  six  inches  from  his  chin,  at  two  courtiers 
of  the  clergy,  bethought  him  of  a  dinner  engage- 
ment, and  passed  his  hand  downward  over  the 
rotundity  of  his  waistcoat. 

*  Dear,  dear,'  said  the  Bishop,  glancing  down 
suddenly,  '  why — what's  become  of  my  watch  ?  ' 

There  hung  three  inches  of  black  ribbon,  with 
a  cut  end.  The  Bishop  looked  blankly  at  the 
Elevators  about  him. 

Three  streets  off,  Dicky  Perrott,  with  his  shut 
fist  deep  in  his  breeches  pocket,  and  a  gold 
watch  in  the  fist,  ran  full  drive  for  the  Old  Jago. 


Ill 

THERE  was  nobody  in  chase ;  but  Dicky 
Perrott,  excited  by  his  novel  exploit,  ran 
hard :  forgetting  the  lesson  first  learnt  by  every 
child  of  the  Jago,  to  avoid,  as  far  as  may  be, 
suspicious  flight  in  open  streets.  He  burst  into 
the  Old  Jago  from  the  Jago  Row  corner,  by 
Meakin  Street ;  and  still  he  ran.  A  small  boy 
a  trifle  bigger  than  himself  made  a  sharp  punch 
at  him  as  he  passed,  but  he  took  no  heed.  The 
hulking  group  at  the  corner  of  Old  Jago  Street, 
ever  observant  of  weaklings  with  plunder,  saw 
him,  and  one  tried  to  catch  his  arm,  but  he 
had  the  wit  to  dodge.  Past  the  Jago  Court 
passage  he  scudded,  in  at  the  familiar  doorway, 
and  up  the  stairs.  A  pale  hunchbacked  child, 
clean    and    wistful,   descended,    and    him    Dicky 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  29 

flung   aside   and    half  downstairs   with   'Git   out, 
'ump ! ' 

Josh  Perrott  sat  on  the  bed,  eating  fried  fish 
from  an  oily  paper;  for  it  was  tea-time.  He 
was  a  man  of  thirty-two,  of  middle  height  and 
stoutly  built,  with  a  hard,  leathery  face  as  of 
one  much  older.  The  hair  about  his  mouth 
seemed  always  three  days  old  —  never  much 
less  nor  much  more.  He  was  a  plasterer 
— had,  at  least,  so  described  himself  at  police- 
courts.  But  it  was  long  since  he  had  plastered, 
though  he  still  walked  abroad  splashed  and 
speckled,  as  though  from  an  eruption  of  in- 
herent plaster.  In  moments  of  pride  he  de- 
clared himself  the  only  member  of  his  family 
who  had  ever  learned  a  trade,  and  worked  at 
it.  It  was  a  long  relinquished  habit,  but  while 
it  lasted  he  had  married  a  decent  boiler-maker's 
daughter,  who  had  known  nothing  of  the  Jago 
till  these  latter  days.  One  other  boast  Josh 
Parrot  had :  that  nothing  but  shot  or  pointed 
steel  could  hurt  him.  And  this,  too,  was  near 
being  a  true  boast ;  as  he  had  proved  in  more 
than  one   fight   in   the   local    arena  —  which   was 


30  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Jago  Court.  Now  he  sat  peaceably  on  the  edge 
of  the  bed,  and  plucked  with  his  fingers  at  the 
oily  fish,  while  his  wife  grubbed  hopelessly  about 
the  cupboard  shelves  for  the  screw  of  paper 
which  was  the  sugar-basin. 

Dicky  entered  at  a  burst.  '  Mother — father — 
look !  I  done  a  click !  I  got  a  clock  —  a 
red  'un  ! ' 

Josh  Perrott  stopped,  jaw  and  hand,  with  a 
pinch  of  fish  poised  in  air.  The  woman  turned, 
and  her  chin  fell.  '  O,  Dicky,  Dicky,'  she 
cried,  in  real  distress,  '  you're  a  awful  low, 
wicked  boy.  My  Gawd,  Josh,  'e — 'e'll  grow  up 
bad :  I  said  so.' 

Josh  Perrott  bolted  the  pinch  of  fish,  and 
sucked  his  fingers  as  he  sprang  to  the  door. 
After  a  quick  glance  down  the  stairs  he  shut 
it,  and  turned  to  Dicky.  '  Where  d'je  get 
that,  ye  young  devel  ? '  he  asked,  and  snatched 
the  watch. 

'  Claimed  it  auf  a  ol'  bloke  w'en  'e  was  drink- 
in'  'is  tea,'  Dicky  replied,  with  sparkling  eyes. 
*  Let's  'ave  a  look  at  it,  father.' 

'  Did  'e  run  after  ye  ?  ' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  31 

*  No — didn't  know  nuffin'  about  it.  I  cut  'is 
bit  o'  ribbin  with  my  knife.'  Dicky  held  up  a 
treasured  relic  of  blade  and  handle,  found  in  a 
gutter.    '  Ain'  cher  goin'  to  let's  'ave  a  look  at  it  ? ' 

Josh  Perrott  looked  doubtfully  toward  his  wife : 
the  children  were  chiefly  her  concern.  Of  her 
sentiments  there  could  be  no  mistake.  He 
slipped  the  watch  into  his  own  pocket,  and 
caught  Dicky  by  the  collar. 

*  I'll  give  you  somethink,  you  dam  young  thief,' 
he  exclaimed,  slipping  off  his  belt.  'You'd  like 
to  have  us  all  in  stir  for  a  year  or  two,  I 
s'pose ;  goin'  thievin'  watches  like  a  gro wed-up 
man.'  And  he  plied  the  belt  savagely,  while 
Dicky,  amazed,  breathless  and  choking,  spun 
about  him  vi^ith  piteous  squeals,  and  the  baby 
woke  and  puled  in  feeble  sympathy. 

There  was  a  rip,  and  the  collar  began  to 
leave  the  old  jacket.  Feeling  this,  Josh  Perrott 
released  it,  and  with  a  quick  drive  of  the 
fist  in  the  neck  sent  Dicky  staggering  across 
the  room.  Dicky  caught  at  the  bed  frame,  and 
limped  out  to  the  landing,  sobbing  grievously 
in  the  bend  of  his  sleeve. 


32  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

It  was  more  than  his  mother  had  intended, 
but  she  knew  better  than  to  attempt  inter- 
ference. Now  that  he  was  gone,  she  said,  with 
some  hesitation  :  *  'Adn't  you  better  take  it 
out  at  once,  Josh?' 

'Yus,  I'm  goin','  Josh  replied,  turning  the 
watch  in  his  hand.      '  It's  a  good  'un — a  topper.' 

'  You — you  won't  let  Weech  'ave  it,  will  ye, 
Josh  ?     'E — 'e  never  gives  much.' 

'No  bloomin'  fear.  I'm  goin'  up  'Oxton  with 
this  'ere.' 

Dicky  sobbed  his  way  down  the  stairs  and 
through  the  passage  to  the  back.  In  the  yard 
he  looked  for  Tommy  Rann,  to  sympathise. 
But  Tommy  was  not,  and  Dicky  paused  in  his 
grief  to  reflect  that  perhaps,  indeed,  in  the 
light  of  calm  reason,  he  would  rather  cast  the 
story  of  the  watch  in  a  more  heroic  mould, 
for  Tommy's  benefit,  than  was  compatible  with 
tears  and  a  belted  back.  So  he  turned  and 
squeezed  through  a  hole  in  the  broken  fence, 
sobbing  again,  in  search  of  the  friend  that 
shared  his  inmost  sorrows. 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  ^^ 

The  belting  was  bad — very  bad.  There  was 
broken  skin  on  his  shins  where  the  strap  had 
curled  round,  and  there  was  a  little  sticky 
blood  under  the  shirt  half  way  up  his  back  : 
to  say  nothing  of  bruises.  But  it  was  the 
hopeless  injustice  of  things  that  shook  him  to 
the  soul.  Wholly  unaided,  he  had  done,  with 
neatness  and  credit,  a  click  that  anybody  in 
the  Jago  would  have  been  proud  of.  Over- 
joyed, he  had  hastened  to  receive  the  com- 
mendations of  his  father  and  mother,  and  to 
place  the  prize  in  their  hands,  freely  and  gener- 
ously, though  perhaps  with  some  hope  of  hot 
supper  by  way  of  celebration.  And  his  reward 
was  this.  Why  ?  He  could  understand  nothing  : 
could  but  feel  the  wrong  that  broke  his  heart. 
And  so,  sobbing,  he  crawled  through  two  fences 
to  weep  on  the  shaggy  neck  of  Jerry  Gullen's 
canary. 

Jerry  Gullen's  canary  was  no  bird,  but  a 
donkey :  employed  by  Jerry  Gullen  in  his 
occasional  intervals  of  sobriety  to  drag  a  cranky 
shallow,  sometimes  stored  with  glass  bottles, 
rags,  and  hearth-stone :   sometimes  with  firewood 


34  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

manufactured  from  a  convenient  hoarding,  or 
from  the  joinery  of  an  empty  house  :  sometimes 
with  empty  sacks  covering  miscellaneous  property 
suddenly  acquired  and  not  for  general  inspection. 
His  vacations,  many  and  long,  Jerry  Gullen's 
canary  spent,  forgotten  and  unfed,  in  Jerry 
Gullen's  backyard :  gnawing  desperately  at 
fences,  and  harrowing  the  neighbourhood  with 
his  bray.  Thus  the  nick-name,  facetiously 
applied  by  Kiddo  Cook  in  celebration  of  his 
piteous  song,  grew  into  use ;  and  '  Canary ' 
would  call  the  creature's  attention  as  readily  as 
a  mouthful  of  imprecations. 

Jerry  Gullen's  canary  was  gnawing,  gnawing, 
with  a  sound  as  of  a  crooked  centre-bit.  Every- 
where about  the  foul  yard,  ten  or  twelve  feet 
square,  wood  was  rounded  and  splintered  and 
bitten  white,  and  as  the  donkey  turned  his 
heavy  head,  a  drip  of  blood  from  his  gums 
made  a  disc  on  the  stones.  A  twitch  of  the 
ears  welcomed  Dicky,  grief-stricken  as  he  was ; 
for  it  was  commonly  thus  that  he  bethought 
him  of  solace  in  Jerry  Gullen's  backyard.  And 
so  Dicky,  his   arms   about  the  mangy  neck,  told 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  35 

the  tale  of  his  wrongs  till  consolation  came  in 
composition  of  the  heroic  narrative  designed 
for  Tommy  Rann. 

'O,  Canary,  it  is  a  blasted  shame!' 


IV 

WHEN  Dicky  Perrott  came  running  into 
Jago  Row  with  the  Bishop's  watch  in 
his  pocket,  another  boy  punched  a  fist  at  him, 
and  at  the  time  Dicky  was  at  a  loss  to  guess 
the  cause — unless  it  were  a  simple  caprice — but 
stayed  neither  to  inquire  nor  to  retaliate.  The 
fact  was  that  the  Ranns  and  the  Learys  were 
coming  out,  fighting  was  in  the  air,  and  the 
small  boy,  meeting  another  a  trifle  smaller, 
punched  on  general  principles.  The  Ranns  and 
the  Learys,  ever  at  war  or  in  guarded  armistice, 
were  the  great  rival  families — the  Montagues 
and  the  Capulets — of  the  old  Jago.  The  Learys 
indeed,  scarce  pretended  to  rivalry — rather  to 
factious  opposition.  For  the  Ranns  gloried  in 
the  style  and  title  of  the  'Royal  Family,'  and 
dominated    the    Jago ;    but    there    were    mighty 

36 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  37 

fighters,  men  and  women,  among  the  Learys, 
and  when  a  combat  arose  it  was  a  hard  one  and 
an  animated.  The  two  famih'es  ramified  through- 
out the  Jago;  and  under  the  Rann  standard, 
whether  by  kin  or  by  custom,  were  the  Gullens, 
the  Fishers,  the  Splcers,  and  the  Walshes ;  while 
in  the  Leary  train  came  Dawsons,  Greens,  and 
Harnwells.  So  that  near  all  the  Jago  was  wont 
to  be  on  one  side  or  the  other,  and  any  of  the 
Jago  which  was  not,  was  apt  to  be  the  worse  for 
it ;  for  the  Ranns  drubbed  all  them  that  were 
not  of  their  faction  in  the  most  thorough  and 
most  workmanlike  manner,  and  the  Learys  held 
by  the  same  practice;  so  that  neutrality  meant 
double  drubbing.  But  when  the  Ranns  and 
Learys  combined,  and  the  Old  Jago  issued  forth 
in  its  entire  might  against  Dove  Lane,  then  the 
battle  was  one  to  go  miles  to  see. 

This,  however,  was  but  a  Rann  and  Leary 
fight ;  and  it  was  but  in  its  early  stages  when 
Dicky  Perrott,  emerging  from  Jerry  Gullen's 
backyard,  made  for  Shored  itch  High  Street  by 
way  of  the  *  Posties ' — the  passage  with  posts  at 
the   end   of  Old   Jago   Street.     His  purpose  was 


38  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

to  snatch  a  handful  of  hay  from  some  passing 
waggon,  or  of  mixed  fodder  from  some  unguarded 
nosebag,  wherewith  to  reward  the  sympathy  of 
Jerry  Gullen's  canary.  But  by  the  '  Tosties,'  at 
the  Edge  Lane  corner,  Tommy  Rann,  capless, 
and  with  a  purple  bump  on  his  forehead,  came 
flying  into  his  arms,  breathless,  exultant,  a 
babbling  braggart.  He  had  fought  Johnny 
Leary  and  Joe  Dawson,  he  said,  one  after  the 
other,  and  pretty  nigh  broke  Johnny  Leary's 
blasted  neck ;  and  Joe's  Dawson's  big  brother 
was  after  him  now  with  a  bleed'n'  shovel.  So 
the  two  children  ran  on  together,  and  sought 
the  seclusion  of  their  own  back  yard  ;  where  the 
story  of  Johnny  Rann's  prowess,  with  scowls  and 
the  pounding  of  imaginary  foes,  and  the  story 
of  the  Bishop's  watch,  with  suppressions  and 
improvements,  mingled  and  contended  in  the 
thickening  dusk.  And  Jerry  Gullen's  canary 
went  forgotten  and  unrequited. 

That  night  fighting  was  sporadic  and  desultory 
in  the  Jago.  Bob  the  Bender  was  reported  to 
have  a  smashed  nose,  and  Sam  Cash  had  his 
head  bandaged  at  the  hospital.     At  the  Bag  of 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  39 

Nails  in  Edge  Lane,  Snob  Spicer  was  knocked 
out  of  knowledge  with  a  quart  pot,  and  Cocko 
Harnwell's  missis  had  a  piece  bitten  off  of  one 
ear.  As  the  night  wore  on,  taunts  and  defiances 
were  bandied  from  window  to  door,  and  from 
door  to  window,  between  those  who  intended  to 
begin  fighting  to-morrow ;  and  shouts  from  divers 
corners  gave  notice  of  isolated  scuffles.  Once  a 
succession  of  piercing  screams  seemed  to  betoken 
that  Sally  Green  had  begun.  There  was  a  note 
in  the  screams  of  Sally  Green's  opposites  which 
the  Jago  had  learned  to  recognise.  Sally  Green, 
though  of  the  weaker  faction,  was  the  female 
champion  of  the  Old  Jago:  an  eminence  won 
and  kept  by  fighting  tactics  peculiar  to  herself 
For  it  was  her  way,  reserving  teeth  and  nails, 
to  wrestle  closely  with  her  antagonist,  throw  her 
by  a  dexterous  twist  on  her  face,  and  fall  on 
her,  instantly  seizing  the  victim's  nape  in  her 
teeth,  gnawing  and  worrying.  The  sufferer's 
screams  were  audible  afar,  and  beyond  their 
invariable  eccentricity  of  quality — a  quality  a 
vaguely  suggestive  of  dire  surprise — they  had 
mechanical    persistence,    a    pump-like    regularity, 


40  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

that   distinguished  them,  in   the   accustomed   ear, 
from  other  screams. 

Josh  Perrott  had  not  been  home  all  the  evening : 
probably  the  Bishop's  watch  was  in  course  of  trans- 
mutation into  beer.  Dicky,  stiff  and  domestically 
inclined,  nursed  Looey  and  listened  to  the  noises 
without  till  he  fell  asleep,  in  hopeful  anticipation 
of  the  morrow.  For  Tommy  Rann  had  promised 
him  half  of  a  broken  iron  railing  wherewith  to 
fight  the  Learys. 


V 

LEEP  in  the  Jago  was  at  best  a  thing  of  in- 
termission, for  reasons — reasons  of  multitude 
— already  denoted;  nevertheless  Dicky  slept  well 
enough  to  be  unconscious  of  his  father's  home- 
coming. In  the  morning,  however,  there  lay  Josh 
Perrott,  snoring  thunderously  on  the  floor,  piebald 
with  road-dust  This  was  not  a  morning  whereon 
father  would  want  breakfast — that  was  plain: 
he  would  wake  thirsty  and  savage.  So  Dicky 
made  sure  of  a  crust  from  the  cupboard,  and 
betook  himself  in  search  of  Tommy  Rann.  As 
to  washing,  he  was  never  especially  fond  of  it, 
and  in  any  case  there  were  fifty  excellent  ex- 
cuses for  neglect.  The  only  water  was  that 
from  the  little  tap  in  the  back  yard.  The  little 
tap  was  usually  out  of  order,  or  had  been  stolen 
bodily   by   a   tenant;    and    if  it   were   not,   there 

41 


42  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

was  no  basin  there,  nor  any  soap,  nor  towel ; 
and  anything  savouring  of  moderate  cleanliness 
was  resented  in  the  Jago  as  an  assumption  of 
superiority. 

Fighting  began  early,  fast  and  furious.  The 
Ranns  got  together  soon,  and  hunted  the 
Learys  up  and  down,  and  attacked  them  in 
their  houses  :  the  Learys'  chances  only  coming 
when  straggling  Ranns  were  cut  off  from  the 
main  body.  The  weapons  in  use,  as  was 
customary,  rose  in  effectiveness  by  a  swiftly 
ascending  scale.  The  Learys,  assailed  with 
sticks,  replied  with  sticks  torn  from  old  packing- 
cases,  with  protruding  nails.  The  two  sides 
bethought  them  of  coshes  simultaneously,  and 
such  as  had  no  coshes — very  few — had  pokers 
and  iron  railings.  Ginger  Stagg,  at  bay  in  his 
passage,  laid  open  Pud  Palmer's  cheek  with  a 
chisel ;  and,  knives  thus  happily  legitimised  with 
the  least  possible  preliminary  form,  everybody 
was  free  to  lay  hold  of  whatever  came  handy. 

In  Old  Jago  Street,  half  way  between  Jago 
Court  and  Edge  Lane,  stood  the  Feathers,  the 
grimiest    and    vilest    of    the    four    public-houses 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  43 

in  the  Jago.  Into  the  Feathers  some  dozen 
Learj's  were  driven,  and  for  a  while  they  held 
the  inner  bar  and  the  tap-room  against  the 
Ranns,  who  swarmed  after  them,  chairs,  bottles, 
and  pewter  pots  flying  thick,  while  Mother 
Gapp,  the  landlady,  hung  hysterical  on  the  beer- 
pulls  in  the  bar,  supplicating  and  blubbering 
aloud.  Then  a  partition  came  down  with  a 
crash,  bringing  shelves  and  many  glasses  with 
it,  and  the  Ranns  rushed  over  the  ruin,  beating 
the  Learys  down,  jumping  on  them,  heaving 
them  through  the  back  windows.  Having  thus 
cleared  the  house  of  the  intruding  enemy,  the 
Ranns  demanded  recompense  of  liquor,  and 
took  it,  dragging  handles  off  beer-engines,  seiz- 
ing bottles,  breaking  into  the  cellar,  and  driv- 
ing in  bungs.  Nobody  better  than  Mother 
Gapp  could  quell  an  ordinary  bar  riot — even 
to  knocking  a  man  down  with  a  pot ;  but  she 
knew  better  than  to  attempt  interference  now. 
Nothing  could  have  made  her  swoon,  but  she 
sat  limp  and  helpless,  weeping  and  blaspheming. 
The  Ranns  cleared  off,  every  man  with  a 
bottle  or  so,  and    scattered,  and    this  for  a  while 


44  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

was  their  undoing.  For  the  Learys  rallied 
and  hunted  the  Ranns  in  their  turn  :  a  crowd 
of  eighty  or  a  hundred  sweeping  the  Jago  from 
Honey  Lane  to  Meakin  Street.  Then  they 
swung  back  through  Edge  Lane  to  Old  Jago 
Street,  and  made  for  Jerry  Gullen's — a  house 
full  of  Ranns.  Jerry  Gullen,  Bill  Rann,  and 
the  rest  took  refuge  in  the  upper  floors  and 
barricaded  the  stairs.  Below,  the  Learys  broke 
windows  and  ravaged  the  rooms,  smashing  what- 
soever of  furniture  was  to  be  found.  Above, 
Pip  Walsh,  who  affected  horticulture  on  his 
window-sill,  hurled  down  flower-pots.  On  the 
stairs,  Billy  Leary,  scaling  the  barricade,  was 
flung  from  top  to  bottom,  and  had  to  be  carried 
home.  And  then  Pip  Walsh's  missis  scattered 
the  besiegers  on  the  pavement  below  with  a 
kettleful  of  boiling  water. 

There  was  a  sudden  sortie  of  Ranns  from 
Jago  Court,  but  it  profited  nothing;  for  the 
party  was  small,  and,  its  advent  being  un- 
expected, there  was  a  lack  of  prompt  co-opera- 
tion from  the  house.     The  Learys  held  the  field. 

Down   the    middle   of  Old   Jago   Street    came 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  45 

Sally  Green :  red  faced,  stripped  to  the  waist, 
dancing,  hoarse  and  triumphant.  Nail-scores 
wide  as  the  finger  striped  her  back,  her  face, 
and  her  throat,  and  she  had  a  black  eye ;  but 
in  one  great  hand  she  dangled  a  long  bunch  of 
clotted  hair,  as  she  whooped  defiance  to  the  Jago. 
It  was  a  trophy  newly  rent  from  the  scalp  of 
Norah  Walsh,  champion  of  the  Rann  woman- 
kind, who  had  crawled  away  to  hide  her  blighted 
head,  and  be  restored  with  gin.  None  answered 
Sally's  challenge,  and,  staying  but  to  fling  a 
brickbat  at  Pip  Walsh's  window,  she  carried  her 
dance  and  her  trophy  into  Edge  Lane. 

The  scrimmage  on  Jerry  Gullen's  stairs  was 
thundering  anew,  and  parties  of  Lcarys  were 
making  for  other  houses  in  the  street,  when 
there  came  a  volley  of  yells  from  Jago  Row, 
heralding  a  scudding  mob  of  Ranns.  The 
defeated  sortie-party  from  Jago  Court,  driven 
back,  had  gained  New  Jago  Street  by  way  of 
the  house-passages  behind  the  Court,  and  set 
to  gathering  the  scattered  faction.  Now  the 
Ranns  came,  drunk,  semi-drunk,  and  otherwise, 
and   the   Learys,   leaving    Jerry   Gullen's,   rushed 


46  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

to  meet  them.  There  was  a  great  shock,  hats 
flew,  sticks  and  heads  made  a  wooden  rattle, 
and  instantly  the  two  mobs  were  broken  into 
an  uproarious  confusion  of  tangled  groups,  howl- 
ing and  grappling.  Here  a  man  crawled  into 
a  passage  to  nurse  a  broken  head ;  there  a  knot 
gathered  to  kick  a  sprawling  foe.  So  the  fight 
thinned  out  and  spread,  resolving  into  many 
independent  combats,  with  concerted  rushes  of 
less  and  less  frequency,  till  once  again  all  through 
the  Jago  each  fought  for  his  own  hand.  Kiddo 
Cook,  always  humorous,  ran  hilariously  through 
the  streets,  brandishing  a  long  roll  of  twisted 
paper,  wherewith  he  smacked  the  heads  of 
Learys  all  and  sundry,  who  realised  too  late 
that  the  paper  was  twisted  round  a  lodging- 
house  poker. 

Now,  of  the  few  neutral  Jagos :  most  lay  low. 
Josh  Perrott,  however,  hard  as  nails  and  respected 
for  it,  feared  neither  Rann  nor  Leary,  and  leav- 
ing a  little  money  with  his  missis,  carried  his 
morning  mouth  in  search  of  beer.  Pigeony  Poll, 
harlot  and  outcast,  despised  for  that  she  neither 
fought  nor  kept  a  cosh-carrier,  like  a  respectable 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  47 

married  woman,  slunk  and  trembled  in  corners 
and  yards,  and  wept  at  the  sight  of  bleeding 
heads.  As  for  old  Beveridge,  the  affair  so 
grossly  excited  him  that  he  neglected  business 
(he  cadged  and  wrote  begging  screeves)  and 
stayed  in  the  Jago,  where  he  strode  wildly 
about  the  streets,  lank  and  rusty,  stabbing  the 
air  with  a  carving  knife,  and  incoherently  defying 
*all  the  lot'  to  come  near  him.     Nobody  did. 

Dicky  Perrott  and  Tommy  Rann  found  a 
snug  fastness  in  Jago  Row.  For  there  was  a 
fence  with  a  loose  board,  which,  pushed  aside, 
revealed  a  hole  where-through  a  very  small  boy 
might  squeeze ;  and  within  were  stored  many 
barrows  and  shallows,  mostly  broken,  and  of 
these  one,  tilted  forward  and  bottom  up,  made 
a  hut  or  den,  screened  about  with  fence  and 
barrows.  Here  they  hid  while  the  Learys  swept 
the  Jago,  and  hence  they  issued  from  time  to 
time  to  pound  such  youngsters  of  the  other 
side  as  might  come  in  sight.  The  bits  of  iron 
railing  made  imposing  weapons,  but  were  a 
trifle  too  big  and  heavy  for  rapid  use  in  their 
puny   hands.      Still,   Dicky   managed    to    double 


48  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

up  little  Billy  Leary  with  a  timely  lunge  in 
the  stomach,  and  Tommy  Rann  made  Bobby 
Harnwell's  nose  bleed  very  satisfactorily.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  bump  on  Tommy  Rann's 
forehead  was  widened  by  the  visitation  of  a 
stick,  and  Dicky  Perrott  sustained  a  very  hopeful 
punch  in  the  eye,  which  he  cherished  enthusiasti- 
cally with  a  view  to  an  honourable  blackness. 
In  the  snuggery  intervals  they  explained  their 
prowess  one  to  another,  and  Dicky  alluded  to 
his  intention,  when  he  was  a  man,  to  buy  a 
very  long  sword  wherewith  to  cut  off  the  Learys' 
heads :  Tommy  Rann  inclining,  however,  to  a 
gun,  with  which  one  might  also  shoot  birds. 

The  battle  flagged  a  little  toward  mid-day, 
but  waxed  lively  again  as  the  afternoon  began. 
It  was  then  that  Dicky  Perrott,  venturing  some 
way  from  the  retreat,  found  himself  in  a 
scrimmage,  and  a  man  snatched  away  his  piece 
of  iron  and  floored  a  Leary  with  it.  Gratifying 
as  was  the  distinction  of  aiding  in  the  exploit, 
Dicky  mourned  the  loss  of  the  weapon  almost 
unto  tears,  and  Tommy  Rann  would  not  go 
turn-about  with    the    other,   but   kept   it   wholly 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  49 

for  himself;  so  Dicky  was  fain  to  hunt  sorrow- 
fully for  a  mere  stick.  Even  a  disengaged  stick 
was  not  easy  to  find  just  then.  So  Dicky, 
emerging  from  the  Jago,  tried  Meakin  Street, 
where  there  were  shops,  but  unsuccessfully,  and 
so  came  round  by  Luck  Row,  a  narrow  way 
from  Meakin  Street  by  Walker's  cook  shop, 
up  through  the  Jago. 

Dicky's  mother,  left  with  the  baby,  fastened 
the  door  as  well  as  she  might,  and  trembled. 
Indeed  she  had  reason.  The  time  of  Josh 
Perrott's  return  was  a  matter  of  doubt,  but 
when  he  did  come  he  would  want  something 
to  eat;  it  was  for  that  he  had  left  the  money. 
But  Dicky  was  out,  and  there  was  nothing  in 
the  cupboard.  From  the  window  she  saw  divers 
fights  in  Jago  Court ;  and  a  man  lay  for  near 
two  hours  on  the  stones  with  a  cut  on  his 
temple.  As  for  herself,  she  was  no  favourite 
in  the  neighbourhood  at  any  time.  For  one 
thing,  her  husband  did  not  carry  the  cosh. 
Then  she  was  an  alien  who  had  never  entirely 
fallen  into  Jago  ways ;  she  had  soon  grown  sluttish 


50  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

and  dirty,  but  she  was  never  drunk,  she  never 
quarrelled,  she  did  not  gossip  freely.  Also  her 
husband  beat  her  but  rarely,  and  then  not  with 
a  chair  nor  a  poker.  Justly  irritated  by  such 
superiorities  as  these,  the  women  of  the  Jago 
were  ill-disposed  to  brook  another :  which  was, 
that  Hannah  Perrott  had  been  married  in  church. 
For  these  reasons  she  was  timid  at  the  most 
peaceful  of  times,  but  now,  with  Ranns  and 
Learys  on  the  war-path,  and  herself  obnoxious 
to  both,  she  trembled.  She  wished  Dicky  would 
come  and  do  her  errand.  But  there  was  no 
sign  of  him,  and  mid-day  wore  into  afternoon. 
It  was  late  for  Josh  as  it  was,  and  he  would 
be  sure  to  come  home  irritable :  it  was  his  way 
when  a  bad  head  from  overnight  struggled  with 
morning  beer.  If  he  found  nothing  to  eat  there 
would  be  trouble. 

At  length  she  resolved  to  go  herself.  There 
was  a  lull  in  the  outer  din,  and  what  there  was 
seemed  to  come  from  the  farther  parts  of  Honey 
Lane  and  Jago  Row.  She  would  slip  across  by 
Luck  Row  to  Meakin  Street  and  be  back  in  five 
minutes.     She  took  up  little  Looey  and  went. 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  51 

And  as  Dicky,  sticklcss,  turned  into  Luck 
Row,  there  arose  a  loud  shriek  and  then  another, 
and  then  in  a  changed  voice  a  succession  of 
long  screams  with  a  regular  breath-pause.  Sally 
Green  again !  He  ran,  turned  into  Old  Jago 
Street,  and  saw. 

Sprawled  on  her  face  in  the  foul  road  lay  a 
writhing  woman  and  screamed ;  while  squeezed 
under  her  arm  was  a  baby  with  mud  in  its  eyes 
and  a  cut  cheek,  crying  weakly ;  and  spread 
over  all,  clutching  her  prey  by  hair  and  wrist, 
Sally  Green  hung  on  the  nape  like  a  terrier, 
jaws  clenched,  head  shaking. 

Thus  Dicky  saw  it  in  a  flash,  and  in  an 
instant  he  had  flung  himself  on  Sally  Green, 
kicking,  striking,  biting  and  crying,  for  he  had 
seen  his  mother  and  Looey.  The  kicks  wasted 
themselves  among  the  woman's  petticoats,  and 
the  blows  were  feeble;  but  the  sharp  teeth  were 
meeting  in  the  shoulder-flesh,  when  help  came. 

Norah  Walsh,  vanquished  champion,  now  some- 
what recovered,  looked  from  a  window,  saw  her 
enemy  vulnerable,  and  ran  out  armed  with  a 
bottle.     She   stopped   at   the   kerb   to    knock  the 


52  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

bottom  off  the  bottle,  and  then,  with  an  exultant 
shout,  seized  Sally  Green  by  the  hair  and  stabbed 
her  about  the  face  with  the  jagged  points. 
Blinded  with  blood,  Sally  released  her  hold 
on  Mrs  Perrott  and  rolled  on  her  back,  struggling 
fiercely ;  but  to  no  end,  for  Norah  Walsh, 
kneeling  on  her  breast,  stabbed  and  stabbed 
again,  till  pieces  of  the  bottle  broke  away. 
Sally's  yells  and  plunges  ceased,  and  a  man 
pulled  Norah  off.  On  him  she  turned,  and  he 
was  fain  to  run,  while  certain  Learys  found 
a  truck  which  might  carry  Sally  to  the 
hospital. 

Hannah  Perrott  was  gone  indoors,  hysterical 
and  helpless.  She  had  scarce  crossed  the  street 
on  her  errand  when  she  had  met  Sally  Green 
in  quest  of  female  Ranns.  Mrs  Perrott  was  not 
a  Rann,  but  she  was  not  a  Leary,  so  it  came 
to  the  same  thing.  Moreover,  there  was  her 
general  obnoxiousness.  She  had  tried  to  run, 
but  that  was  useless ;  and  now,  sobbing  and 
bleeding,  she  was  merely  conscious  of  being 
gently  led,   almost   carried,  indoors  and    upstairs. 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  53 

She  was  laid  back  on  the  bed,  and  somebody 
loosened  her  hair  and  wiped  her  face  and  neck, 
giving  her  hoarse,  comforting  words.  Then  she 
saw  the  face — scared  though  coarse  and  pitted, 
and  red  about  the  eyes — that  bent  over  her. 
It  was  Pigeony  Poll's. 

Dicky  had  followed  her  in,  no  longer  the  hero 
of  the  Jago  Row  retreat,  but  with  his  face  tearful 
and  distorted,  carrying  the  baby  in  his  arms, 
and  wiping  the  mud  from  her  eyes.  Now  he 
sat  on  the  little  box  and  continued  his  minis- 
trations, with  fear  in  his  looks  as  he  glanced 
at  his  mother  on  the  bed. 

Without,  the  fight  rallied  once  more.  The 
Learys  ran  to  avenge  Sally  Green,  and  the 
Ranns  met  them  with  a  will.  Down  by  the 
Bag  of  Nails  a  party  of  Ranns  was  driven 
between  the  posts  and  through  the  gut  into 
Shored  itch  High  Street,  where  a  stand  was 
made  until  Fag  Dawson  dropped,  with  a  shoe- 
maker's knife  sticking  under  his  arm-pit.  Then 
the  Ranns  left,  with  most  of  the  Learys  after 
them,     and     Fag     Dawson     was     carried     to    a 


54  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

chemist's   by   the   police,   never   to   floor  a  Rann 
again.     For  he  was  chived  in  the  left  lung. 

Thus  the  fight  ended.  For  a  faction  fight  in 
the  Jago,  with  a  few  broken  heads  and  ribs 
and  an  odd  knife  wound  here  and  there — even 
with  a  death  in  the  hospital  from  kicks  or  what 
not — was  all  very  well ;  but  when  it  came  to 
homicide  in  the  open  High  Street,  the  police 
drew  the  line,  and  entered  the  Jago  in  force. 
Ordinarily,  a  peep  now  and  again  from  a 
couple  of  policemen  between  the  '  Posties '  was 
all  the  supervision  the  Jago  had,  although 
three  policemen  had  been  seen  to  walk  the 
length  of  Old  Jago  Street  together,  and  there 
were  raids  in  force  for  special  captures.  There 
was  a  raid  in  force  now,  and  the  turmoil 
ceased.  Nothing  would  have  pleased  both 
Ranns  and  Learys  better  than  to  knock  over 
two  or  three  policemen,  for  kicking-practice ; 
but  there  were  too  many  for  the  sport,  and  for 
hours  they  patrolled  the  Jago's  closest  passages. 
Of  course  nobody  knew  who  chived  Fag 
Dawson.  No  inquiring  policeman  ever  found 
anybody  in  the    Old   Jago   who   knew   anything, 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  55 

even  to  the  harm  of  his  bitterest  foe.  It  was 
the  sole  commandment  that  ran  there : — '  Thou 
shalt  not  nark. 

That  night  it  was  known  that  there  would 
be  a  fight  between  Josh  Perrott  and  Billy 
Leary,  once  the  latter  grew  well.  For  Josh 
Perrott  came  home,  saw  his  wife,  and  turned 
Rann  on  the  spot.  But  for  the  police  in  the 
Jago  that  night,  there  would  have  been  many 
a  sore  head,  if  no  worse,  among  the  Learys, 
by  visitation  of  Josh  Perrott.  Sally  Green's 
husband  had  fled  years  ago,  and  Billy  Leary, 
her  brother,  was  the  obvious  mark  for  Josh's 
vengeance.  He  was  near  as  eminent  a  fighter 
among  the  men  as  his  sister  among  the  women, 
and  a  charming  scrap  was  anticipated.  It  would 
come  off,  of  course,  in  Jago  Court  one  Sunday 
morning,  as  all  fights  of  distinction  did ;  and 
perhaps  somebody  in  the  High  Mob  would  put 
up  stakes. 


VI 

IN  the  morning  the  police  still  held  the  Jago. 
Their  presence  embarrassed  many,  but  none 
more  than  Dicky  Perrott,  who  would  always 
take  a  turning,  or  walk  the  other  way,  at  sight 
of  a  policeman.  Dicky  got  out  of  Old  Jago 
Street  early,  and  betook  him  to  Meakin  Street, 
where  there  were  chandlers'  shops  with  sugar 
in  their  windows,  and  cook-shops  with  pudding. 
He  designed  working  through  by  these  to 
Shoreditch  High  Street,  there  to  crown  his 
solace  by  contemplation  of  the  cake-shop.  But, 
as  he  neared  Weech's  coffee-shop,  scarce  half 
through  Meakin  Street,  there  stood  Weech 
himself  at  the  door,  grinning  and  nodding 
affably,  and  beckoning  him.  He  was  a  pleasant 
man,  this  Mr  Aaron  Weech,  who  sang  hymns 
aloud  in  the  back  parlour,  and  hummed  the 
tunes  in  the  shop :  a  prosperous,   white-aproned, 

56 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  57 

whiskered,  half-bald,  smirking  tradesman,  who 
bent  and  spoke  amiably  to  boys,  looking  sharply 
in  their  eyes,  but  talked  to  a  man  mostly  with 
his  gaze  on  the  man's  waistcoat. 

Indeed,  there  seemed  to  be  something  about 
Mr  Aaron  Weech  especially  attractive  to  youth. 
Nearly  all  his  customers  were  boys  and  girls, 
though  not  boys  and  girls  who  looked  likely 
to  pay  a  great  deal  in  the  way  of  refreshment, 
much  as  they  took.  But  he  was  ever  indulgent, 
and  at  all  times  accessible  to  his  young  clients. 
Even  on  Sunday  (though,  of  course,  his  shutters 
were  kept  rigidly  up  on  the  Day  of  Rest)  a 
particular  tap  would  bring  him  hot-foot  to  the 
door :  not  to  sell  coffee,  for  Mr  Weech  was 
no  Sabbath-breaker. 

Now  he  stood  at  his  door,  and  invited  Dicky 
with  nods  and  becks.  Dicky,  all  wondering, 
and  alert  to  dodge  in  case  the  thing  were  a 
mere  device  to  bring  him  within  striking 
distance,  went. 

'W'y  Dicky  Perrott,'  quoth  Mr  Weech  in  a 
tone  of  genial  surprise,  '  I  b'lieve  you  could 
drink  a  cup  o'  cawfy ! ' 


58  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Dicky,  wondering  how  Mr  Weech  had  learnt 
his  name,  believed  he  could. 

*An'  eat  a  slice  o'  cake  too,  I'll  be  bound,' 
Mr  Weech  added. 

Dicky's  glance  leapt.  Yes,  he  could  eat  a 
slice  of  cake  too. 

'  Ah,  I  knew  it,'  said  Mr  Weech,  triumphantly ; 
'  I  can  always  tell.'  He  rubbed  Dicky's  cap 
about  his  head,  and  drew  him  into  the  shop, 
at  this  hour  bare  of  customers.  At  the  inner- 
most compartment  they  stopped,  and  Mr  Weech, 
with  a  gentle  pressure  on  the  shoulders,  seated 
Dicky  at  the  table. 

He  brought  the  coffee,  and  not  a  single 
slice  of  cake,  but  two.  True,  it  was  not  cake 
of  Elevation  Mission  quality,  nor  was  it  so 
good  as  that  shown  at  the  shop  in  High 
Street :  it  was  of  a  browner,  dumpier,  harder 
nature,  and  the  currants  were  gritty  and  few. 
But  cake  it  was,  and  to  consider  it  critically 
were  unworthy.  Dicky  bolted  it  with  less  com- 
fort than  he  might,  for  Mr  Weech  watched  him 
keenly  across  the  table.  And,  indeed,  from 
some   queer   cause,   he   felt   an    odd    impulse    to 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  59 

cry.  It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  ever 
been  given  anything,  kindly  and  ungrudgingly. 

He  swallowed  the  last  crumb,  washed  it  down 
with  the  dregs  of  his  cup,  and  looked  sheepishly 
across  at  Mr  Weech. 

'  Goes  down  awright,  don't  it  ? '  that  benefactor 
remarked.  '  Ah,  I  like  to  see  you  enjoyin'  of 
yerself.  I'm  very  fond  o'  you  young  'uns: 
'specially  clever  'uns  like  you.' 

Dicky  had  never  been  called  clever  before, 
so  far  as  he  could  recollect,  and  he  wondered 
at  it  now.  Mr  Weech,  leaning  back,  contem- 
plated him  smilingly  for  some  seconds,  and  then 
proceeded.  *  Yus,'  he  said,  '  you're  the  sort  o' 
boy  as  can  'ave  cawfy  and  cake  w'encver  you 
want  it,  you  are.* 

Dicky  wondered  more,  and  his  face  said  as 
much.  '  You  know,'  Mr  Weech  pursued,  winking 
amain,  grinning  and  nodding.  '  That  was  a  fine 
watch  you  found  the  other  day.  Y 'ought  to  'a' 
brought  it  to  me.' 

Dicky  was  alarmed.  How  did  Mr  Weech 
learn  about  the  watch  ?  Perhaps  he  was  a 
friend  of  the  funny  old  man  who  lost  it.     Dicky 


6o  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

half  rose,  but  his  affable  patron  leaned  across 
and  pushed  him  back  on  the  seat.  '  You 
needn't  be  frightened,'  he  said.  *  I  ain't  goin' 
to  say  nothink  to  nobody.  But  I  know  all 
about  it,  mind,  an'  I  could  if  I  liked.  You 
found  the  watch,  an'  it  was  a  red  'un,  on  a  bit 
o'  ribbin.  Well,  then  you  went  and  took  it 
'ome,  like  a  little  fool.  Wot  does  yer  father 
do?  W'y  'e  ups  an'  lathers  you  with  'is  belt, 
an'  'e  keeps  the  watch  'isself.  That's  all  you 
git  for  yer  pains.  See — I  know  all  about  it.' 
And  Mr  Weech  gazed  on  Dicky  Perrott  with  a 
fixed  grin. 

''Oo  toldjer?'  Dicky  managed  to  ask  at  last. 

*  Ah  I '  —  this  with  a  great  emphasis  and  a 
tapping  of  the  forefinger  beside  the  nose  —  *  I 
don't  want  much  tellin' :  it  ain't  much  as  goes 
on  'ereabout  I  don't  know  of  Never  mind 
'ow.  P'raps  I  got  a  little  bird  as  w'ispers  — 
p'raps  I  do  it  some  other  way.  Any'ow  I 
know.  It  ain't  no  good  any  boy  tryin'  to  do 
somethink  unbeknownst  to  me,  mindjer.' 

Mr  Weech's  head  lay  aside,  his  grin  widened, 
his   glance   was   sidelong,   his    forefinger    pointed 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  6i 

from  his  temple  over  Dicky's  head,  and  alto- 
gether he  looked  so  very  knowing  that  Dicky 
shuffled  in  his  seat.  By  what  mysterious  means 
was  this  new-found  friend  so  well  informed  ? 
The  doubt  troubled  him,  for  Dicky  knew  no- 
thing of  Mr  Aaron  Weech's  conversation,  an 
hour  before,  with  Tommy  Rann. 

•But  it's  awright,  bless  yer,'  Mr  Weech  went 
on  presently.  '  Nobody's  none  the  wuss  for 
me  knowin'  about  'em.  .  .  .  Well,  we  was 
a-talkin'  about  the  watch,  wasn't  we  ?  All  you 
got  after  sich  a  lot  o'  trouble  was  a  woppin' 
with  a  belt.  That  was  too  bad.'  Mr  Weech's 
voice  was  piteous  and  sympathetic.  'After 
you  a-findin'  sich  a  nice  watch — a  red  'un  an' 
all ! — you  gits  nothink  for  yerself  but  a  beltin'. 
Never  mind,  you'll  do  better  next  time  —  I'll 
take  care  o'  that.  I  don't  like  to  see  a  clever 
boy  put  upon.  You  go  an'  find  another,  or 
somethink  else— anythink  good  —  an'  then  you 
bring  it  'ere.' 

Mr  Weech's  friendly  sympathy  extinguished 
Dicky's  doubt.  '  I  didn't  find  it,'  he  said,  shy 
but  proud.     *  It  was  a  click — I  sneaked  it.' 


62  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

*  Eh  ? '  ejaculated  Mr  Weech,  a  sudden  picture 
of  blank  incomprehension.  '  Eh  ?  What  ?  Click  ? 
Wot's  a  click  ?  Sneaked  ?  Wot's  that  ?  I  dunno 
nothink  about  no  talk  o'  that  sort,  an'  I  don't 
want  to.  It's  my  belief  it  means  somethink 
wrong — but  I  dunno,  an'  I  don't  want  to.  'Ear 
that?  Eh?  Don't  let  me  'ave  no  more  o'  that, 
or  you'd  better  not  come  near  me  agin.  If  you 
find  somethink,  awright:  you  come  to  me  an' 
I'll  give  ye  somethink  for  it,  if  it's  any  good. 
It  ain't  no  business  of  anybody's  where  you 
find  it,  o'  course,  an'  I  don't  want  to  know. 
But  clicks  and  sneaks — them's  Greek  to  me,  an' 
I  don't  want  to  learn  'em.  Unnerstand  that  ? 
Nice  talk  to  respectable  people,  with  yer  clicks 
an'  sneaks  ! ' 

Dicky  blushed  a  little,  and  felt  very  guilty 
without  in  the  least  understanding  the  offence. 
But  Mr  Weech's  virtuous  indignation  subsided 
as  quickly  as  it  had  arisen,  and  he  went  on  as 
amiably  as  ever. 

'When  you  find  anythink,'  he  said,  'jist  like 
you  found  that  watch,  don't  tell  nobody,  an' 
don't    let    nobody    see   it.      Bring    it    'ere    quiet, 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  63 

when  there  ain't  any  p'liceman  in  the  street, 
an'  come  right  through  to  the  back  o'  the  shop, 
an'  say,  "  I  come  to  clean  the  knives."  Unner- 
stand  ?  "I  come  to  clean  the  knives."  There 
ain't  no  knives  to  clean — it's  on'y  a  way  o' 
tellin'  me  you  got  somethink  without  other 
people  knowin'.  An'  then  I'll  give  you  some- 
think for  it — money  p'raps,  or  p'raps  cake  or 
wot  not.  Don't  forgit.  "  I  come  to  clean  the 
knives."     See  ? ' 

Yes,  Dicky  understood  perfectly  ;  and  Dicky 
saw  a  new  world  of  dazzling  delights.  Cake — 
limitless  cake,  coffee,  and  the  like  whenever  he 
might  feel  moved  thereunto ;  but  more  than 
all,  money — actual  money.  Good  broad  pennies, 
perhaps  whole  shillings  —  perhaps  even  more 
still :  money  to  buy  bullock's  liver  for  dinner, 
or  tripe,  or  what  you  fancied :  saveloys,  baked 
potatoes  from  the  can  on  cold  nights,  a  little 
cart  to  wheel  Looey  in,  a  boat  from  a  toy-shop 
with  sails ! 

'There's  no  end  o'  things  to  be  found  all  over 
the  place,  an'  a  sharp  boy  like  you  can  find 
'em  every  day.      If  you  don't  find  'em,  someone 


64  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

else  will;  there's  plenty  on  'em  about  on  the 
look-out,  an'  you  got  jist  as  much  right  as 
them.  On'y  mind  I ' — Mr  Weech  was  suddenly 
stern  and  serious,  and  his  forefinger  was  raised 
impressively — 'you  know  you  can't  do  anythink 
without  I  know,  an'  if  you  say  a  word — if  you 
say  a  word,'  his  fist  came  on  the  table  with  a 
bang,  'somethink  '11  happen  to  you.  Somcthink 
bad.' 

Mr  Weech  rose,  and  was  pleasant  again, 
though  business-like.  '  Now,  you  just  go  an' 
find  somethink,'  he  said.  '  Look  sharp  about 
it,  an'  don't  go  an'  git  in  trouble.  The  cawfy's 
a  penny,  an'  the  cake's  a  penny — ought  prop'ly 
to  be  twopence,  but  say  a  penny  this  time. 
That's  twopence  you  owe  me,  an'  you  better 
bring  somethink  an'  pay  it  off  quick.  So  go 
along.' 

This  was  an  unforeseen  tag  to  the  entertain- 
ment. For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Dicky  was 
in  debt.  It  was  a  little  disappointing  to  find 
the  coffee  and  cake  no  gift  after  all :  though, 
indeed,  it  now  seemed  foolish  to  have  supposed 
they  were;    for  in   Dicky  Perrott's   world   people 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  65 

did  not  give  things  away  —  that  were  the  act 
of  a  fool.  Thus  Dicky,  with  his  hands  in  his 
broken  pockets,  and  thought  in  his  small  face, 
whereon  still  stood  the  muddy  streaks  of  yester- 
day's tears,  trudged  out  of  Mr  Aaron  VVecch's 
shop-door,  and  along  Mcakin  Street. 

Now  he  was  beginning  the  world  seriously, 
and  must  face  the  fact.  Truly  the  world  had 
been  serious  enough  for  him  hitherto,  but  that 
he  knew  not.  Now  he  was  of  an  age  when  most 
boys  were  thieving  for  themselves,  and  he  owed 
money  like  a  man.  True  it  was,  as  Mr  Weecli 
had  said,  that  everybody  —  the  whole  Jago — 
was  on  the  look-out  for  himself.  Plainly  he 
must  take  his  share,  lest  it  fall  to  others.  As 
to  the  old  gentleman's  watch,  he  had  but  been 
beforehand.  Through  foolish  ingenuousness  he 
had  lost  it,  and  his  father  had  got  it,  who  could 
so  much  more  easily  steal  one  for  himself;  for 
he  was  a  strong  man,  and  had  but  to  knock 
over  another  man  at  any  night-time.  Nobody 
should  hear  of  future  clicks  but  Mr  Weech. 
Each  for  himself?  Come,  he  must  open  his 
eyes. 


VII 

THERE  was  no  chance  all  along  Meaki'n 
Street.  The  chandlers  and  the  keepers 
of  cook-shops  knew  their  neighbourhood  too 
well  to  leave  articles  unguarded.  Soon  Dicky 
reached  Shoreditch  High  Street.  There  things 
were  a  little  more  favourable.  There  were  shops, 
as  he  well  remembered,  where  goods  were  some- 
times exhibited  at  the  doors  and  outside  the 
windows ;  but  to-day  there  seemed  to  be  no 
chance  of  the  sort.  As  for  the  people,  he  was 
too  short  to  try  pockets,  and  indeed  the  High 
Street  rarely  gave  passage  to  a  more  unpromis- 
ing lot.  Moreover,  from  robbery  from  the 
person  he  knew  he  must  abstain,  except  for 
such    uncommon    opportunities    as    that    of  the 

Bishop's  watch,  for  some  years  yet. 

66 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  67 

He  hung  about  the  doors  and  windows  of 
shop  after  shop,  hoping  for  a  temporary  absence 
of  the  shop-keeper,  which  might  leave  some- 
thing snatchable.  But  he  hoped  in  vain.  From 
most  shops  he  was  driven  away,  for  the  Shoreditch 
trader  is  not  slow  to  judge  the  purpose  of  a  loiter- 
ing boy.  So  he  passed  nearly  two  hours  :  when 
at  last  he  saw  his  chance.  It  came  in  an  advan- 
tageous part  of  High  Street,  not  far  from  the 
'  Posties,'  though  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
way.  A  nurse-girl  had  left  a  perambulator  at 
a  shop  door,  while  she  bought  inside,  and  on 
the  perambulator  lay  loose  a  little  skin  rug, 
from  under  which  a  little  fat  leg  stuck  and 
waved  aloft.  Dicky  set  his  back  to  the  shop, 
and  sidled  to  within  reach  of  the  perambulator. 
But  it  chanced  that  at  this  moment  the  nurse- 
girl  stepped  to  the  door,  and  she  made  a  snatch 
at  his  arm  as  he  lifted  the  rug.  This  he  dropped 
at  once,  and  was  swinging  leisurely  away  (for 
he  despised  the  chase  of  any  nurse-girl)  when 
a  man  took  him  suddenly  by  the  shoulder. 
Quick  as  a  weasel,  Dicky  ducked  under  the 
man's    arm,   pulled   his    shoulder    clear,   dropped 


68  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

foivvard  and  rested  an  instant  on  the  tips  of 
his  fingers  to  avoid  the  catch  of  the  other  hand, 
and  shot  out  into  the  road.  The  man  tried  to 
follow,  but  Dicky  ran  under  the  belly  of  a 
standing  horse,  under  the  head  of  another  that 
trotted,  across  the  fore-platform  of  a  tramcar — 
behind  the  driver's  back — and  so  over  to  the 
'  Posties.* 

He  slouched  into  the  Jago,  disappointed.  As 
he  crossed  Edge  Lane,  he  u^as  surprised  to 
perceive  a  stranger — a  toff,  indeed — who  vi^alked 
slowly  along,  looking  up  right  and  left  at  the 
grimy  habitations  about  him.  He  wore  a  tall 
hat,  and  his  clothes  were  black,  and  of  a  pattern 
that  Dicky  remembered  to  have  seen  at  the 
Elevation  Mission.  They  were,  in  fact,  the 
clothes  of  a  clergyman.  For  himself,  he  was 
tall  and  soundly  built,  with  a  certain  square 
muscularity  of  face,  and  of  age  about  thirty- 
five.  He  had  ventured  into  the  Jago  because 
the  police  were  in  possession,  Dicky  thought; 
and  wondered  in  what  plight  he  would  leave, 
had  he  come  at  another  time.  But  losing  view 
of  the  stranger,  and  making  his  way  along  Old 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  69 

Jago  Street,  Dicky  perceived  that  indeed  the 
police  were  gone,  and  that  the  Jago  was 
free. 

He  ch'mbed  the  broken  stairs  and  pushed  into 
the  first-floor  back,  hopeful,  though  more  doubtful, 
of  dinner.  There  was  none.  His  mother,  tied 
about  the  neck  with  rags,  lay  across  the  bed 
nursing  the  damage  of  yesterday,  and  com- 
miserating herself.  A  yard  from  her  lay  Looey, 
sick  and  ailing  in  a  new  way,  but  disregarded. 
Dicky  moved  to  lift  her,  but  at  that  she  cried 
the  more,  and  he  was  fain  to  let  her  lie.  She 
rolled  her  head  from  side  to  side,  and  raised 
her  thin  little  hand  vaguely  toward  it,  with 
feverishly  working  fingers.  Dicky  felt  her 
head  and  she  screamed  again.  There  was  a 
lump  at  the  side,  a  hard,  sharp  lump ;  got 
from  the  stones  of  the  roadway  yesterday. 
And  there  was  a  curious  quality,  a  rather 
fearful  quality,  in  the  little  wails :  uneasily 
suggestive  of  the  screams  of  Sally  Green's 
victims. 

Father  was  out,  prowling.  There  was  nothing 
eatable    in    the     cupboard,    and     there     seemed 


70  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

nothing  at  home  worth  staying  for.  He  took 
another  look  at  Looey,  but  refrained  from  touch- 
ing her,  and  went  out. 

The  opposite  door  on  the  landing  was  wide 
open,  and  he  could  hear  nobody  in  the  room. 
He  had  never  seen  this  door  open  before,  and 
now  he  ventured  on  a  peep :  for  the  tenants  of 
the  front  room  were  strangers,  late  arrivals,  and 
interlopers.  Their  name  was  Roper.  Roper 
was  a  pale  cabinet-maker,  fallen  on  evil  times 
and  out  of  work.  He  had  a  pale  wife,  disliked 
because  of  her  neatly-kept  clothes,  her  exceeding 
use  of  soap  and  water,  her  aloofness  from  gossip. 
She  had  a  deadly  pale  baby;  also  there  was  a 
pale  hunchbacked  boy  of  near  Dicky's  age. 
Collectively  the  Ropers  were  disliked  as 
strangers :  because  they  furnished  their  own 
room,  and  in  an  obnoxiously  complete  style ; 
because  Roper  did  not  drink,  nor  brawl,  nor 
beat  his  wife,  nor  do  anything  all  day  but  look 
for  work;  because  all  these  things  were  a  matter 
of  scandalous  arrogance,  impudently  subversive 
of  Jago  custom  and  precedent.  Mrs  Perrott 
was  bad   enough,  but  such  people  as  these !  .  .  . 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  71 

Dicky  had  never  before  seen  quite  such  a 
room  as  this.  Everything  was  so  clean :  the 
floor,  the  windows,  the  bed-clothes.  Also  there 
was  a  strip  of  old  carpet  on  the  floor.  There  were 
two  perfectly  sound  chairs ;  and  two  pink  glass 
vases  on  the  mantel-piece ;  and  a  clock.  Nobody 
was  in  the  room,  and  Dicky  took  a  step 
farther.  The  clock  attracted  him  again.  It 
was  a  small,  cheap,  nickel-plated,  cylindrical  thing, 
of  American  make,  and  it  reminded  him  at  once 
of  the  Bishop's  watch.  It  was  not  gold,  cer- 
tainly, but  it  was  a  good  deal  bigger,  and  it 
could  go — it  was  going.  Dicky  stepped  back 
and  glanced  at  the  landing.  Then  he  darted 
into  the  room,  whipped  the  clock  under  the 
breast  of  the  big  jacket,  and  went  for  the 
stairs. 

Half  way  down  he  met  the  pale  hunchback 
ascending.  Left  at  home  alone,  he  had  been 
standing  in  the  front  doorway.  He  saw  Dicky's 
haste,  saw  also  the  suspicious  bulge  under  his 
jacket,  and  straightway  seized  Dicky's  arm. 
'  Where  'a'  you  bin  ? '  he  asked  sharply.  '  Bin 
in  our  room?     What  you  got  there?' 


72  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

*  Nothin'  o'  yours,  'ump.  Git  out  o'  that ! ' 
Dicky  pushed  him  aside.  '  If  you  don't  le'  go 
I'll  corpse  ye  ! ' 

But  one  arm  and  hand  was  occupied  with  the 
bulge,  and  the  other  was  for  the  moment  un- 
equal to  the  work  of  driving  off  the  assailant. 
The  two  children  wrangled  and  struggled  down- 
stairs, through  the  doorway  and  into  the  street : 
the  hunchback  weak,  but  infuriate,  buffeting, 
biting  and  whimpering ;  Dicky  infuriate  too, 
but  alert  for  a  chance  to  break  away  and  run. 
So  they  scrambled  together  across  the  street, 
Dicky  dragging  away  from  the  house  at  every 
step ;  and  just  at  the  corner  of  Luck  Row, 
getting  his  fore-arm  across  the  other's  face,  he 
back-heeled  him,  and  the  little  hunchback  fell 
heavily,  and  lay  breathless  and  sobbing,  while 
Dicky  scampered  through  Luck  Row  and  round 
the  corner  into  Meakin  Street. 

Mr  Weech  was  busier  now,  for  there  were 
customers.  But  Dicky  and  his  bulge  he  saw 
ere  they  were  well  over  the  threshold. 

*  Ah  yus,  Dicky,'  he  said,  coming  to  meet  him. 
'  I  was  expectin'  you.     Come  in — 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  73 

In  the  swe-e-et  by  an!  by. 

We  shall  meet  on  that  beautiful  shaw-er .' 

Come  in  'ere.'  And  still  humming  his  hymn,  he 
led  Dicky  into  the  shop  parlour. 

Here  Dicky  produced  the  clock,  which  Mr 
Weech  surveyed  with  no  great  approval.  'You'll 
'ave  to  try  an'  do  better  than  this,  you  know,' 
he  said.  '  But  any'ow  'ere  it  is,  sich  as  it  is. 
It  about  clears  auf  wot  you  owe,  I  reckon. 
Want  some  dinner?' 

This  was  a  fact,  and  Dicky  admitted  it. 

'  Awright — 

In  the  swe-e-e-t  by  an'  by, — 

come  out  an'  set  down.  I'll  bring  you  somethink 
'ot.' 

This  proved  to  be  a  very  salt  bloater,  a  cup 
of  the  usual  muddy  coffee,  tasting  of  burnt 
toast,  and  a  bit  of  bread :  afterwards  supple- 
mented by  a  slice  of  cake.  This  to  Dicky  was 
a  banquet.  Moreover,  there  was  the  adult 
dignity  of  taking  your  dinner  in  a  coffee-shop, 
which  Dicky  supported  indomitably  now  that 
he  began  to  feel   at  ease   in    Mr  Weech's :    lean- 


74  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

ing  back  in  his  seat,  swinging  his  feet,  and 
looking  about  at  the  walls  with  the  grocers' 
almanacks  hanging  thereto,  and  the  Sunday 
School  Anniversary  bills  of  past  date,  gathered 
from  afar  to  signalise  the  elevated  morals  of 
the  establishment. 

'  Done  ? '  queried  Mr  Weech  in  his  ear. 
'  Awright,  don't  'ang  about  'ere  then.  Bloater's 
a  penny,  bread  a  'a'peny,  cawfy  a  penny,  cake 
a  penny.     You'll  owe  thrippence  a'peny  now.' 


VIII 

WHEN  Dicky  Perrott  and  the  small  hunch- 
back were  hauling  and  struggling  across 
the  street,  Old  Fisher  came  down  from  the  top- 
floor  back,  wherein  he  dwelt  with  his  son  Bob, 
Bob's  wife  and  two  sisters,  and  five  children  :  an 
apartment  in  no  way  so  clean  as  the  united 
efibrts  of  ten  people  might  be  expected  to  have 
made  it.  Old  Fisher,  on  whose  grimy  face  the 
wrinkles  were  deposits  of  mud,  stopped  at  the 
open  door  on  the  first  floor,  and,  as  Dicky  had 
done,  he  took  a  peep.  Perplexed  at  the 
monstrous  absence  of  dirt,  and  encouraged 
by  the  stillness,  Old  Fisher  also  ventured 
within.  Nobody  was  in  charge,  and  Old  Fisher, 
mentally  pricing  the  pink  glass  vases  at  three- 
pence, made  for  a  small  chest  in  the  corner  of 
the  room,  and  lifted   the   lid.      Within  lay  many 

75 


76  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

of  Roper's  tools,  from  among  which  he  had  that 
morning  taken  such  as  he  might  want  on  an 
emergent  call  to  work,  to  carry  as  he  tramped 
Curtain  Road.  Clearly  these  were  the  most 
valuable  things  in  the  place;  and,  slipping  a 
few  small  articles  into  his  pockets.  Old  Fisher 
took  a  good  double  handful  of  the  larger,  and 
tramped  upstairs  with  them.  Presently  he  re- 
turned with  Bob's  missis,  and  together  they 
started  with  more.  As  they  emerged,  however, 
there  on  the  landing  stood  the  little  hunchback, 
sobbing  and  smearing  his  face  with  his  sleeve. 
At  sight  of  this  new  pillage  he  burst  into  sharp 
wails,  standing  impotent  on  the  landing,  his 
streaming  eyes  following  the  man  and  woman 
ascending  before  him.  Old  Fisher,  behind, 
stumped  the  stairs  with  a  clumsy  affectation  of 
absent-mindedness ;  the  woman,  in  front,  looked 
down,  merely  indifferent.  Scarce  were  they 
vanished  above,  however,  when  the  little  hunch- 
back heard  his  father  and  mother  on  the  lower 
stairs. 


IX 

ICKY  came  moodily  back  from  his  dinner 
at  Mr  Weech's,  plunged  in  mystified 
computation  :  starting  with  a  debt  of  twopence, 
he  had  paid  Mr  Weech  an  excellent  clock — a 
luxurious  article  in  Dicky's  eyes — had  eaten  a 
bloater,  and  had  emerged  from  the  transaction 
owing  threepence  halfpenny.  Of  what  such  a 
clock  cost  he  had  no  notion,  though  he  felt  it 
must  be  some  inconceivable  sum.  As  Mr  Weech 
put  it,  the  adjustment  of  accounts  would  seem 
to  be  quite  correct ;  but  the  broad  fact  that  all 
had  ended  in  increasing  his  debt  by  three  half- 
pence, remained  and  perplexed  him.  He  re- 
membered having  seen  such  clocks  in  a  shop 
in  Norton  Folgate.  To  ask  the  price,  in  person, 
were  but  to  be  chased  out  of  the  shop ;  but 
they    were    probably    ticketed,    and    perhaps    he 

77 


78  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

might  ask  some  bystander  to  read  the  ticket. 
This  brought  the  reflection  that,  after  all,  read- 
ing was  a  useful  accomplishment  on  occasion : 
though  a  matter  of  too  much  time  and  trouble 
to  be  worth  while.  Dicky  had  never  been  to 
school ;  for  the  Elementary  Education  Act  ran 
in  the  Jago  no  more  than  any  other  Act  of 
Parliament.  There  was  a  Board  School,  truly, 
away  out  of  the  Jago  bounds,  by  the  corner 
of  Honey  Lane,  where  children  might  go  free, 
and  where  some  few  Jago  children  did  go  now 
and  again,  when  boots  where  to  be  given  away, 
or  when  tickets  were  to  be  had,  for  tea,  or  soup, 
or  the  like.  But  most  parents  were  of  Josh 
Perrott's  opinion :  that  school-going  was  a 
practice  best  never  begun ;  for  then  the  child 
was  never  heard  of,  and  there  was  no  chance  of 
inquiries  or  such  trouble.  Not  that  any  such 
inquiries  were  common  in  the  Jago,  or  led  to 
anything. 

Meantime  Dicky,  minded  to  know  if  his 
adventure  had  made  any  stir  in  the  house, 
carried  his  way  deviously  toward  home.  Work- 
ing   through    the    parts    beyond    Jago    Row,   he 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  79 

fetched  round  into  Honey  Lane,  so  coming  at 
New  Jago  Street  from  the  farther  side.  Choosing 
one  of  the  houses  whose  backs  gave  on  Jago 
Court,  he  slipped  through  the  passage,  and  so, 
by  the  back  yard,  crawled  through  the  broken 
fence  into  the  court.  Left  and  right  were  the 
fronts  of  houses,  four  a  side.  Before  him,  to  the 
right  of  the  narrow  archway  leading  to  Old  Jago 
Street,  was  the  window  of  his  own  home.  He 
gained  the  back  yard  quietly,  and  at  the  kitchen 
door  met  Tommy  Rann. 

'  Come  on,'  called  Tommy.  '  'Ere's  a  barney  ! 
They're  a-pitchin'  into  them  noo  'uns — Roperses. 
Roperses  sez  Fisherses  Is  sneaked  their  things. 
They  are  a-gittin'  of  it ! ' 

From  the  stairs,  indeed,  came  shouts  and 
curses,  bumps  and  sobs  and  cries.  The  first 
landing  and  half  the  stairs  were  full  of  people, 
men  and  women,  Ranns  and  Learys  together. 
When  Ranns  joined  Learys  it  was  an  ill  time 
for  them  they  marched  against;  and  never  were 
they  so  ready  and  so  anxious  to  combine  as 
after  a  fight  between  themselves,  were  but 
some  common  object   of  attack   available.     Here 


8o  A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO 

it  was.  Here  were  these  pestilent  outsiders,  the 
Ropers,  assailing  the  reputation  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood by  complaining  of  being  robbed.  As 
though  their  mere  presence  in  the  Jago,  with 
their  furniture  and  their  superiority,  were  not 
obnoxious  enough :  they  must  turn  about  and 
call  their  neighbours  thieves!  They  had  been 
tolerated  too  long  already.  'I'hcy  should  now 
be  given  something  for  themselves,  and  have 
some  of  their  exasperating  respectability  knocked 
off;  and  if,  in  the  confusion,  their  portable 
articles  of  furniture  and  bed-clothing  found  their 
way  into  more  deserving  hands — why,  serve  them 
right. 

The  requisite  volleys  of  preliminary  abuse  hav- 
ing been  discharged,  more  active  operations  began 
under  cover  of  fresh  volleys.  Dicky,  with  Tommy 
Rann  behind  him,  struggled  up  the  stairs  among 
legs  and  skirts,  and  saw  that  the  Ropers,  the 
man  flushed,  but  the  woman  paler  than  ever, 
were  striving  to  shut  their  door.  Within,  the 
hunchback  and  the  baby  cried,  and  without, 
those  on  the  landing,  skidding  the  door  with 
their    feet,    pushed    inward,    and   now   began   to 


A  CHILD  or  THE  JAGO  8i 

strike  and  maul.  Somebody  seized  the  man's 
wrist,  and  Norah  Walsh  got  the  woman  by  the 
hair  and  dragged  her  head  down.  In  a  peep 
through  the  scuffle  Dicky  saw  her  face,  ashen 
and  sweat-beaded,  in  the  jamb  of  the  door,  and 
saw  Norah  Walsh's  red  fist  beat  into  it  twice. 
Then  somebody  came  striding  up  the  stairs, 
and  Dicky  was  pushed  farther  back.  Over  the 
shoulders  of  those  about  him,  Dicky  saw  a  tall 
hat,  and  then  the  head  beneath  it.  It  was  the 
stranger  he  had  seen  in  Edge  Lane — the  parson  : 
active  and  resolute.  Norah  Walsh  he  took  by 
the  shoulder,  and  flung  back  among  the  others, 
and  as  he  turned  on  him,  the  man  who  held 
Roper's  wrist  released  it  and  backed  off. 

*  What  is  this  ?  '  demanded  the  new-comer, 
stern  and  hard  of  face.  *  What  is  all  this  ? ' 
He  bent  his  frown  on  one  and  another  about 
him,  and,  as  he  did  it,  some  shrank  uneasily,  and 
on  the  faces  of  others  fell  the  blank  lack  of 
expression  that  was  wont  to  meet  police 
inquiries  in  the  Jago.  Dicky  looked  to  see  this 
man  beaten  down,  kicked  and  stripped.  But 
a   well-dressed    stranger   was   so   new   a  thing  in 


82  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

the  Jago,  this  one  had  dropped  among  them  so 
suddenly,  and  he  had  withal  so  bold  a  confidence, 
that  the  Jagos  stood  irresolute,  A  toff  was  not 
a  person  to  be  attacked  without  due  considera- 
tion. After  such  a  person  there  were  apt  to 
be  inquiries,  with  money  to  back  them,  and 
vengeance  sharp  and  certain  :  the  thing,  indeed, 
was  commonly  thought  too  risky.  And  this 
man,  so  unflinchingly  confident,  must  needs  have 
reason  for  it.  He  might  have  the  police  at 
instant  call — they  might  be  back  in  the  Jago 
at  the  moment.  And  he  flung  them  back,  com- 
manded them,  cowed  them  with  his  hard,  intelli- 
gent eyes,  like  a  tamer  among  beasts. 

'Understand  this,  now,'  he  went  on,  with  a 
sharp  tap  of  his  stick  on  the  floor.  '  This  is  a 
sort  of  thing  I  will  not  tolerate  in  my  parish — 
in  this  parish :  nor  in  any  other  place  where  I 
may  meet  it.  Go  away,  and  try  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourselves — go.  Go,  all  of  you,  I  say,  to  your 
own  homes :  I  shall  come  there  and  talk  to 
you  again  soon.  Go  along,  Sam  Cash — you've 
a  broken  head  already,  I  see.  Take  it  away : 
I  shall  come  and  see  you  too,' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  83 

Those  on  the  stairs  had  melted  away  like 
punished  school-children.  Most  of  the  others, 
after  a  moment  of  averted  face  and  muttered 
justification  one  to  another,  were  dragging  their 
feet,  each  with  a  hang-dog  pretence  of  saunter- 
ing airily  off  from  some  sight  no  longer  interest- 
ing. Sam  Cash,  who  had  already  seen  the 
stranger  in  the  street,  and  was  thus  perhaps  a 
trifle  less  startled  than  the  others  at  his  advent, 
stood,  however,  with  some  assumption  of  virtuous 
impudence,  till  amazed  by  sudden  address  in 
his  own  name :  whereat,  clean  discomfited,  he 
ignominiously  turned  tail  and  sneaked  down- 
stairs in  meaner  case  than  the  rest.  How 
should  this  strange  parson  know  him,  and  know 
his  name?  Plainly  he  must  be  connected  with 
the  police.  He  had  brought  out  the  name  as 
pat  as  you  please.  So  argued  Sam  Cash  with 
his  fellows  in  the  outer  street :  never  recalling 
that  Jerry  Gullen  had  called  aloud  to  him  by 
name,  when  first  he  observed  the  parson  in  the 
street ;  had  called  to  him,  indeed,  to  haste  to 
the  bashing  of  the  Ropers  ;  and  thus  had  first 
given    the    stranger    notice    of    the    proceeding. 


84  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

But  it  was  the  way  of  the  Jago  that  its  mean 
cunning  saw  a  mystery  and  a  terror  where 
simple  intelligence  saw  there  was  none. 

As  the  crowd  began  to  break  up,  Dicky 
pushed  his  own  door  a  little  open  behind  him, 
and  there  stood  on  his  own  ground,  as  the 
others  cleared  off;  and  the  hunchback  ventured 
a  peep  from  behind  his  swooning  mother.  '  There 
y'are,  that's  'im ! '  he  shouted,  pointing  at  Dicky. 
"E  begun  it!  'E  took  the  clock!'  Dicky 
instantly  dropped  behind  his  door,  and  shut  it 
fast. 

The  invaders  had  all  gone — the  Fishers  had 
made  upstairs  in  the  beginning  —  before  the 
parson  turned  and  entered  the  Ropers'  room. 
In  five  minutes  he  emerged  and  strode  upstairs  : 
whence  he  returned,  after  a  still  shorter  interval, 
herding  before  him  Old  Fisher  and  Bob  Fisher's 
missis,  sulky  and  reluctant,  carrying  tools. 

And  thus  it  was  that  the  Reverend  Henry 
Sturt  first  addressed  his  parishioners.  The 
parish,  besides  the  Jago,  comprised  Meakin 
Street  and  some  small  way  beyond,  and  it  was 
to  this  less   savage   district  that  his  predecessor 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  85 

had  confined  his  attention :  preaching  every 
Sunday  in  a  stable,  in  an  alley  behind  a  disused 
shop,  and  distributing  loaves  and  sixpences  to 
the  old  women  who  attended  regularly  on  that 
account.  For  to  go  into  the  Jago  were  for 
him  mere  wasted  effort.  And  so,  indeed,  the 
matter  had  been  since  the  parish  came  into 
being. 


X 

WHEN  Dicky  retreated  from  the  landing 
and  shut  the  door  behind  him,  he  slipped 
the  bolt,  a  strong  one,  put  there  by  Josh  Perrott 
himself,  possibly  as  an  accessory  to  escape  by 
the  window  in  some  possible  desperate  pass. 
For  a  little  he  listened,  but  no  sound  hinted 
of  attack  from  without,  and  he  turned  to  his 
mother. 

Josh  Perrott  had  been  out  since  early  morning, 
and  Dicky,  too,  had  done  no  more  than  look 
in  for  a  moment  in  search  of  dinner.  Hannah 
Perrott,  grown  tired  of  self  commiseration,  felt 
herself  neglected  and  aggrieved — slighted  in  her 
state  of  invalid  privilege.  So  she  transferred 
some  of  her  pity  from  her  sore  neck  to  her 
desolate  condition  as  misprized  wife  and  mother, 

and   the  better  to  feel  it,  proceeded  to  martyrise 

86 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  87 

herself,  with  melancholy  pleasure,  by  a  nerve- 
less show  of  '  setting  to  rights '  in  the  room — 
a  domestic  novelty,  perfunctory  as  it  was. 
Looey,  still  restless  and  weeping,  she  left  on 
the  bed,  for,  being  neglected  herself,  it  was  not 
her  mood  to  tend  the  baby ;  she  would  aggra- 
vate the  relish  of  her  sorrows  in  her  own  way. 
Besides,  Looey  had  been  given  something  to 
eat  a  long  time  ago,  and  had  not  eaten  it  yet : 
with  her  there  was  nothing  else  to  do.  So  that 
now,  as  she  dragged  a  rag  along  the  grease- 
strewn  mantel-piece,  Mrs  Perrott  greeted  Dicky : — 
'There  y'are,  Dicky,  comin'  'inderin'  'ere  jest 
when  I'm  a-puttin'  things  to  rights.'  And  she 
sighed  with  the  weight  of  another  grievance. 

Looey  lay  on  her  back,  faintly  and  vainly 
struggling  to  turn  her  fearful  little  face  from 
the  light.  Clutched  in  her  little  fist  was  the 
unclean  stump  of  bread  she  had  held  for  hours. 
Dicky  plucked  a  soft  piece  and  essayed  to  feed 
her  with  it,  but  the  dry  little  mouth  rejected 
the  morsel,  and  the  head  turned  feverishly 
from  side  to  side  to  the  sound  of  that  novel 
cry.       She    was     hot     wherever    Dicky    touched 


88  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

her,  and  presently   he   said  : — '  Mother,    I   b'lieve 
Looey's  queer.     I  think  she  wants  some  med'cine.' 

His  mother  shook  her  head  peevishly.  'O, 
you  an'  Looey's  a  noosance,'  she  said.  '  A  lot 
you  care  about  me  bein'  queer,  you  an'  yer 
father  too,  leavin'  me  all  alone  like  this,  an'  me 
feelin'  ready  to  drop,  an'  got  the  room  to  do 
an'  all.  I  wish  you'd  go  away  an'  stop  'inderin' 
of  me  like  this.' 

Dicky  took  but  another  look  at  Looey,  and 
then  slouched  out.  The  landing  was  clear,  and 
the  Ropers'  door  was  shut.  He  wondered  what 
had  become  of  the  stranger  with  the  tall  hat 
— whether  he  was  in  the  Ropers'  room  or  not. 
The  thought  hurried  him,  for  he  feared  to  have 
that  stranger  asking  him  questions  about  the 
clock.  He  got  out  into  the  street,  thoughtful. 
He  had  some  compunctions  in  the  matter  of 
that  clock,  now.  Not  that  he  could  in  any 
reasonable  way  blame  himself  There  the  clock 
had  stood  at  his  mercy,  and  by  all  Jago  custom 
and  ethic  it  was  his  if  only  he  could  get  clear 
away  with  it.  This  he  had  done,  and  he  had 
no  more  concern  in  the  business,  strictly  speak- 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  89 

ing.  Nevertheless,  since  he  had  seen  the  woman's 
face  in  the  jamb  of  the  door,  he  felt  a  sort  of 
pity  for  her  —  that  she  should  have  lost  her 
clock.  No  doubt  she  had  enjoyed  its  posses- 
sion, as,  indeed,  he  would  have  enjoyed  it  him- 
self, had  he  not  had  to  take  it  instantly  to  Mr 
Weech.  And  his  fancy  wandered  off  in  medita- 
tion of  what  he  would  do  with  a  clock  of  his 
own.  To  begin  with,  of  course,  he  would  open 
it,  and  discover  the  secret  of  its  works  and  its 
ticking :  perhaps  thereby  discovering  how  to 
make  a  clock  himself.  Also  he  would  frequently 
wind  it  up,  and  he  would  show  the  inside  to 
Looey,  in  confidence.  It  would  stand  on  the 
mantel-piece,  and  raise  the  social  position  of  the 
family.  People  would  come  respectfully  to  ask 
the  time,  and  he  would  tell  them,  with  an  air. 
Yes,  certainly  a  clock  must  stand  eminent  among 
the  things  he  would  buy,  when  he  had  plenty 
of  money.  He  must  look  out  for  more  clicks : 
the  one  way  to  riches. 

As  to  the  Ropers,  again.  Bad  it  must  be, 
indeed,  to  be  deprived  suddenly  of  a  clock, 
after    long    experience   of  the    joys   it   brought ; 


90  A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO 

and  Norah  Walsh  had  punched  the  woman  in 
the  face,  and  clawed  her  hair,  and  the  woman 
could  not  fight.  Dicky  was  sorry  for  her,  and 
straightway  resolved  to  give  her  another  clock, 
or,  if  not  a  clock,  something  that  would  please 
her  as  much.  He  had  acquired  a  clock  in  the 
morning;  why  not  another  in  the  afternoon? 
Failing  a  clock,  he  would  try  for  something 
else,  and  the  Ropers  should  have  it.  The 
resolve  gave  Dicky  a  virtuous  exaltation  of 
spirit,  the  reward  of  the  philanthropist. 

Again  he  began  the  prowl  after  likely 
plunder  that  was  to  be  his  daily  industry. 
Meakin  Street  he  did  not  try.  The  chandlers' 
and  the  cook-shops  held  nothing  that  might 
be  counted  a  consolatory  equivalent  for  a  clock. 
Through  the  'Posties'  he  reached  Shoreditch 
High  Street  at  once,  and  started. 

This  time  his  movements  aroused  less 
suspicion.  In  the  morning  he  had  no  particular 
prize  in  view,  and  loitered  at  every  shop,  wait- 
ing his  chance  at  anything  portable.  Now, 
with  a  more  definite  object,  he  made  his 
promenade     easily,     but     without     stopping    or 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  91 

lounging  by  shop-fronts.  The  thing,  whatso- 
ever it  might  be,  must  be  small,  handsome, 
and  of  an  interesting  character — at  least  as 
interesting  as  the  clock  was.  It  must  be  small, 
not  merely  for  facility  of  concealment  and  re- 
moval— though  these  were  main  considerations 
— but  because  stealthy  presentation  were  then 
the  easier.  It  would  have  pleased  Dicky  to 
hand  over  his  gift  openly,  and  to  bask  in  the 
thanks  and  the  consideration  it  would  procure. 
But  he  had  been  accused  of  stealing  the  clock, 
and  an  open  gift  would  savour  of  admission 
and  peace-offering,  whereas  in  that  matter 
stark  denial  was  his  plain  course. 

A  roll  of  print  stuff  would  not  do;  apples 
would  not  do;  and  fish  was  wide  of  his 
purpose.  Up  one  side  and  down  the  other 
side  of  High  Street  he  walked,  his  eyes  instant 
for  suggestion  and  opportunity.  But  all  in 
vain.  Nobody  exposed  clocks  out  of  doors, 
and  of  those  within  not  one  but  an  attempt 
on  it  were  simple  madness.  And  of  the  things 
less  desperate  of  access  nothing  was  proper  to 
the    occasion :    all    were     too    large,   too    cheap, 


92  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

or  too  uninteresting.  Oddly,  Dicky  feared  failure 
more  than  had  he  been  hunting  for  himself. 

He  tried  farther  south,  in  Norton  Folgate. 
There  was  a  shop  of  cheap  second-hand 
miscellanies :  saddles,  razors,  straps,  dumb- 
bells, pistols,  boxing  gloves,  trunks,  bags,  and 
billiard-balls.  Many  of  the  things  hung  about 
the  door-posts  in  bunches,  and  within  all  was 
black,  as  in  a  cave.  At  one  door-post  was  a 
pistol.  Nothing  could  be  more  interesting  than 
a  pistol — indeed  it  was  altogether  a  better 
possession  than  a  clock ;  and  it  was  a  small, 
handy  sort  of  thing.  Probably  the  Ropers 
would  be  delighted  with  a  pistol.  He  stood 
and  regarded  it  with  much  interest.  There 
were  difficulties.  In  the  first  place  it  was 
beyond  his  reach ;  and  in  the  second,  it  hung 
by  the  trigger-guard  on  a  stout  cord.  Just 
then,  glancing  within  the  shop,  he  perceived  a 
pair  of  fiery  eyes  regarding  him,  panther-like, 
from  the  inner  gloom ;  and  he  hastily  resumed 
his  walk,  as  the  Jew  shopkeeper  reached  the 
door,  and  watched  him  safely  away. 

Now    he     came    to    Bishopsgate     Street,    and 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  93 

here  at  last  he  chose  the  gift.  It  was  at  a  toy- 
shop :  a  fine,  flaming  toy-shop,  with  carts,  dolls, 
and  hoops  dangling  above,  and  wooden  horses 
standing  below,  guarding  two  baskets  by  the 
door.  One  contained  a  mixed  assortment  of 
tops,  whips,  boats,  and  woolly  dogs;  the  other 
was  lavishly  filled  with  shining,  round  metal 
boxes,  nobly  decorated  with  coloured  pictures, 
each  box  with  a  little  cranked  handle.  As  he 
looked,  a  tune,  delightfully  tinkled  on  some 
instrument,  was  heard  from  within  the  shop. 
Dicky  peeped.  There  was  a  lady,  with  a  little 
girl  at  her  side  who  was  looking  eagerly  at  just 
such  a  shining,  round  box  in  the  saleswoman's 
hands,  and  it  was  from  that  box,  as  the  sales- 
woman turned  the  handle,  that  the  tune  came. 
Dicky  was  enchanted.  This — this  was  the 
thing,  beyond  debate :  a  pretty  little  box  that 
would  play  music  whenever  you  turned  a 
handle.  This  was  a  thing  worth  any  fifty 
clocks.  Indeed  it  was  almost  as  good  as  a 
regular  barrel-organ,  the  first  thing  he  would 
buy  if  he  were  rich. 
There  was  a  shop-boy  in  charge  of  the  goods 


94  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

outside  the  window,  and  his  eyes  were  on 
Dicky.  So  Dicky  whistled  absently,  and 
strolled  carelessly  along.  He  swung  behind  a 
large  waggon,  crossed  the  road,  and  sought  a 
convenient  doorstep;  for  his  mind  was  made 
up,  and  his  business  was  now  to  sit  down 
before   the    toy-shop,   and   wait   his   opportunity. 

A  shop  had  been  boarded  up  after  a  fire, 
and  from  its  doorstep  one  could  command  a 
perfect  view  of  the  toy-shop  across  the  broad 
thoroughfare  with  its  crowded  traffic — could 
sit,  moreover,  safe  from  interference.  Here  he 
took  his  seat,  secure  from  the  notice  of  the 
guardian  shop-boy,  whose  attention  was  given 
to  passengers  on  his  own  side.  The  little  girl, 
gripping  the  new  toy  in  her  hand,  came  out 
at  her  mother's  side  and  trotted  off.  For  a 
moment  Dicky  reflected  that  the  box  could 
be  easily  snatched.  But  after  all  the  little  girl 
liad  but  one :  whereas  the  shopwoman  had 
many,  and  at  best  could  play  on  no  more  than 
one  at  a  time. 

He  resumed  his  watch  of  the  shop-boy,  con- 
fident that     sooner     or    later     a     chance     would 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  95 

come.  A  woman  stopped  to  ask  the  price  of 
something,  and  Dicky  had  half  crossed  the  road 
ere  the  boy  had  begun  to  answer.  But  the 
answer  was  short,  and  the  boy's  attention  was 
released  too  soon. 

At  last  the  shopwoman  called  the  boy  with- 
in, and  Dicky  darted  across — not  directly,  but 
so  as  to  arrive  invisibly  at  the  side  next  the 
basket  of  music  boxes.  A  quick  glance  behind 
him,  a  snatch  at  the  box  with  the  reddest 
picture,  and  a  dash  into  the  traffic  did  it. 

The  dash  would  not  have  been  called  for  but 
for  the  sudden  re-appearance  of  the  shop-boy  ere 
the  box  had  vanished  amid  the  intricacies  of 
Dicky's  jacket.  Dicky  was  fast,  but  the  boy  was 
little  slower,  and  was,  moreover,  bigger,  and 
stronger  on  his  legs  ;  and  Dicky  reached  the  other 
pavement  and  turned  the  next  corner  into  Wide- 
gate  Street,  the  pursuer  scarce  ten  yards  behind. 

It  was  now  that  he  first  experienced  'hot 
beef — which  is  the  Jago  idiom  denoting  the 
plight  of  one  harried  by  the  cry  'Stop  thief.' 
Down  Widegate  Street,  across  Sandys  Row 
and    into    Raven    Row   he   ran    his    best,   clutch- 


96  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

ing  the  hem  of  his  jacket  and  the  music  box 
that  lay  within.  Crossing  Sandys  Row  a 
loafing  lad  shouldered  against  the  shop-boy, 
and  Dicky  was  grateful,  for  he  made  it  a  gain 
of  several  yards. 

But  others  had  joined  in  the  hunt,  and 
Dicky  for  the  first  time  began  to  fear.  This 
was  a  bad  day — twice  already  he  had  been 
chased  ;  and  now — it  was  bad.  He  thought 
little  more,  for  a  stunning  fear  fell  upon  him : 
the  fear  of  the  hunted,  that  calculates  no- 
thing, and  is  measured  by  no  apprehension  of 
consequences.  He  remembered  that  he  must 
avoid  Spitalfields  Market,  full  of  men  who 
would  stop  him ;  and  he  knew  that  in  many 
places  where  a  man  would  be  befriended  many 
would  make  a  virtue  of  stopping  a  boy.  To 
the  right  along  Bell  Lane  he  made  an  agonised 
burst  of  speed,  and  for  a  while  he  saw  not  nor 
remembered  anything ;  heard  no  more  than 
dreadful  shouts  drawing  nearer  his  shoulders, 
felt  only  the  fear.  But  he  could  not  last. 
Quick  enough  when  fresh,  he  was  tiny  and 
ill  fed,  and  now  he  felt   his   legs   trembling  and 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  97 

his  wind  going.  Something  seemed  to  beat  on 
the  back  of  his  head,  till  .he  wondered  madly 
if  it  were  the  shop-boy  with  a  stick.  He 
turned  corners,  and  chose  his  way  by  mere 
instinct,  ashen-faced,  staring,  open-mouthed. 
I  low  soon  would  he  give  in,  and  drop?  A 
street  more — half  a  street — ten  yards?  Roll- 
ing and  tripping,  he  turned  one  last  corner 
and  almost  fell  against  a  vast,  fat,  unkempt 
woman   whose  clothes    slid    from   her  shoulders. 

"Ere  y'  are,  boy,'  said  the  woman,  and  flung 
him  by  the  shoulder  through  the  doorway 
before  which  she  stood. 

He  was  saved  at  his  extremity,  for  he  could 
never  have  reached  the  street's  end.  The 
woman  who  had  done  it  (probably  she  had 
boys  of  her  own  on  the  crook)  filled  the 
entrance  with  her  frowsy  bulk,  and  the  chase 
straggled  past.  Dicky  caught  the  stair-post 
for  a  moment's  support,  and  then  staggered 
out  at  the  back  of  the  house.  He  gasped, 
he  panted,  things  danced  blue  before  him, 
but  still  he  clutched  his  jacket  hem  and  the 
music   box   lying   within.      The   back   door   gave 


98  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

on  a  cobble-paved  court,  with  other  doors,  two 
coster's  barrows,  and  a  few  dusty  fowls.  Dicky 
iat  on  a  step  where  a  door  was  shut,  and 
rested  his  head  against  the  frame. 

The  beating  in  his  head  grew  slower  and 
lighter,  and  presently  he  could  breathe  with 
no  fear  of  choking.  He  rose  and  moved  off, 
still  panting,  and  feeble  in  the  legs.  The  court 
ended  in  an  arched  passage,  through  which  he 
gained  the  street  beyond.  Here  he  had  but 
to  turn  to  the  left,  and  he  was  in  Brick  Lane, 
and  thence  all  was  clear  to  the  Old  Jago. 
Regaining  his  breath  and  his  confidence  as  he 
went,  he  bethought  him  of  the  Jago  Row 
retreat,  where  he  might  examine  his  prize  at 
leisure,  embowered  amid  trucks  and  barrows. 
Thither  he  pushed  his  way,  and  soon,  in  the 
shade  of  the  upturned  barrow,  he  brought  out 
the  music  box.  Bright  and  shiny,  it  had  taken 
no  damage  in  the  flight,  though  on  his  hands 
he  found  scratches,  and  on  his  shins  bruises, 
got  he  knew  not  how.  On  the  top  of  the 
box  was  the  picture  of  a  rosy  little  boy  in 
crimson  presenting  a  scarlet   nosegay  to   a  rosy 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  99 

little  girl  in  pink,  while  a  red  brick  mansion 
filled  the  distance  and  solidified  the  com- 
position. The  brilliant  hoop  that  made  the 
sides  (silver,  Dicky  was  convinced)  was  stamped 
in  patterns,  and  the  little  brass  handle  was  an 
irresistible  temptation.  Dicky  climbed  a  truck, 
and  looked  about  him,  peeping  from  beside 
the  loose  fence-plank.  Then,  seeing  nobody 
very  near,  he  muffled  the  box  as  well  as  he 
could  in  his  jacket,  and  turned  the  handle. 

This  was  indeed  worth  all  the  trouble. 
Gently  Does  the  Trick  was  the  tune,  and  Dicky, 
with  his  head  aside  and  his  ear  on  the  bunch 
of  jacket  that  covered  the  box,  listened:  his 
lips  parted,  his  eyes  seeking  illimitable  space. 
He  played  the  tune  through,  and  played  it 
again,  and  then  growing  reckless,  played  it  with 
the  box  unmuffled,  till  he  was  startled  by  a 
bang  on  the  fence  from  without  It  was  but 
a  passing  boy  with  a  stick,  but  Dicky  was 
sufficiently  disturbed  to  abandon  his  quarters 
and  take  his  music  elsewhere. 

What  he  longed  to  do  was  to  take  it  home 
and    play    it    to    Looey,   but    that    was    out    of 


loo  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

the  question :  he  remembered  the  watch.  But 
there  was  Jerry's  Gullen's  canary,  and  him 
Dicky  sought  and  found.  Canary  blinked 
solemnly  when  the  resplendent  box  was  flashed 
in  his  eyes,  and  set  his  ears  back  and  forward 
as,  muffled  again  in  Dicky's  jacket,  it  tinkled 
out  its  tune. 

Tommy  Rann  should  not  see  it,  lest  he  pre- 
vail over  its  beneficent  dedication  to  the  Ropers. 
Truly,  as  it  was,  Dicky's  resolution  was  hard 
to  abide  by.  The  thing  acquired  at  such  a 
cost  of  patience,  address,  hard  flight,  and  deadly 
fear  was  surely  his  by  right — as  surely,  quite, 
as  the  clock  had  been.  And  such  a  thing  he 
might  never  touch  again.  But  he  put  by  the 
temptation  manfully,  and  came  out  by  Jerry 
Gullen's  front  door.  He  would  look  no  more 
on  the  music  box,  beautiful  as  it  was :  he 
would  convey  it  to  the  Ropers  before  tempt- 
ation came  again. 

It  was  not  easy  to  devise  likely  means.  Their 
door  was  shut  fast,  of  course.  For  a  little 
while  he  favoured  the  plan  of  setting  the  box 
against    the    threshold,    knocking,    and    running 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  loi 

off.  But  an  opportunity  might  arise  of  doing 
the  thing  in  a  way  to  give  him  some  glimpse 
of  the  Ropers'  deh'ght,  an  indulgence  he  felt  en- 
titled to.  So  he  waited  a  little,  listened  a  little, 
and  at  last  came  out  into  the  street,  and  loafed. 
It  was  near  six  o'clock,  and  a  smell  of  bloater 
hung  about  Jerry  Gullen's  door  and  window ; 
under  the  raised  sash  Jerry  Gullen,  close- 
cropped  and  foxy  of  face,  smoked  his  pipe, 
sprawled  his  elbows,  and  contemplated  the  world. 
Dicky,  with  the  music  box  stowed  out  of  sight* 
looked  as  blank  of  design  and  as  destitute  of 
possession  as  he  could  manage ;  for  there  were 
loafers  near  Mother  Gapp's,  loafers  at  the  Luck 
Row  corner — at  every  corner — and  loafers  by 
the  '  Posties,'  all  laggard  of  limb  and  alert  of 
eye.  He  had  just  seen  a  child,  going  with  an 
empty  beer  can,  thrown  down,  robbed  of  his 
coppers  and  a  poor  old  top,  and  kicked  away 
in  helpless  tears;  and  the  incident  was  common- 
place enough,  or  many  would  have  lacked  pocket- 
money.  Whosoever  was  too  young,  too  old, 
or  too  weak  to  fight  for  it  must  keep  what  he 
had  well  hidden,  in  the  Jago. 


I02  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Down  the  street  came  Billy  Leary,  big, 
flushed  and  limping,  and  hanging  to  a  smaller 
man  by  a  fistful  of  his  coat  on  the  shoulder. 
Dicky  knew  the  small  man  for  a  good  toy- 
getter — ( which  =  watch  stealer) — and  judged  he 
had  had  a  good  click,  the  proceeds  whereof 
Billy  Leary  was  battening  upon  in  beershops. 
For  Billy  Leary  rarely  condescended  to  any- 
thing less  honourable  than  bashing,  and  had 
not  yet  fallen  so  low  as  to  go  about  stealing 
for  himself.  His  missis  brought  many  to  the 
cosh,  and  his  chief  necessity — another  drink — 
he  merely  demanded  of  the  nearest  person 
with  the  money  to  buy  it,  on  pain  of  bashing. 
Or  he  walked  into  the  nearest  public-house, 
selected  the  fullest  pot,  and  spat  in  it :  a 
ceremony  that  deprived  the  purchaser  of  further 
interest  in  the  beer,  and  left  it  at  his  own  dis- 
posal. There  were  others,  both  Ranns  and 
Learys,  who  pursued  a  similar  way  of  life ; 
but  Billy  Leary  was  biggest  among  them  — 
big  men  not  being  common  in  the  Jago — and 
rarely  came  to  a  difficulty :  as,  however,  he  did 
once  come,  having  invaded  the  pot  of  a  stranger, 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  103 

who  turned  out  to  be  a  Mile  End  pugilist  ex- 
ploring Shoreditch.  It  was  not  well  for  any 
Jago  who  had  made  a  click  to  have  Billy 
Leary  know  of  it ;  for  then  the  clicker  was 
apt  to  be  sought  out,  clung  to,  and  sucked 
dry ;  possibly  bashed  as  well,  when  nothing 
more  was  left,  if  Billy  Leary  were  still  but 
sober  enough  for  the  work. 

Dicky  gazed  after  the  man  with  interest.  It 
was  he  whom  his  father  was  to  fight  in  a  week 
or  so — perhaps  in  a  few  days :  on  the  first 
Sunday,  indeed,  that  Leary  should  be  deemed 
fit  enough.  How  much  of  the  limp  was  due  to 
yesterday's  disaster  and  how  much  to  to-day's 
beer,  Dicky  could  not  judge.  But  there  seemed 
little  reason  to  look  for  a  long  delay  before  the 
fight. 

As  Dicky  turned  away  a  man  pushed  a  large 
truck  round  the  corner  from  Edge  Lane,  and  on 
the  footpath  beside  it  walked  the  parson,  calm 
as  ever,  with  black  clothes  and  tall  hat,  whole 
and  unsoiled.  He  had  made  himself  known  in 
the  Jago  in  the  course  of  that  afternoon.  He 
had    traversed    it    from    end    to    end,    street    by 


104  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

street  and  alley  by  alley.  His  self-possession, 
his  readiness,  his  unbending  firmness,  abashed 
and  perplexed  the  Jagos,  and  his  appearance 
just  as  the  police  had  left  could  but  convince 
them  that  he  must  have  some  mysterious  and 
potent  connection  with  the  force.  He  had 
attempted  very  little  in  the  way  of  domiciliary 
visiting,  being  content  for  the  time  to  see  his 
parish,  and  speak  here  a  word  and  there  another 
with  his  parishioners.  An  encounter  with  Kiddo 
Cook  did  as  much  as  anything  toward  securing 
him  a  proper  deference.  In  his  second  walk 
through  Old  Jago  Street,  as  he  ncared  the 
Feathers,  he  was  aware  of  a  bunch  of  grinning 
faces  pressed  against  the  bar  window,  and  as 
he  came  abreast,  forth  stepped  Kiddo  Cook 
from  the  door,  impudently  affable,  smirking 
and  ducking  with  mock  obsequiousness,  and 
offering  a  quart  pot. 

'  An'  'ow  jer  find  jerself,  sir  ? '  he  asked,  with 
pantomime  cordiality.  '  Hof  ly  shockin'  these  'ere 
lower  classes,  ain't  they  ?  Er — yus ;  disgustin', 
weally.  Er — might  I — er — prepose — er — a  little 
refreshment?     Ellow  me.' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  105 

The  parson,  grimly  impassive,  heard  him 
through,  took  the  pot,  and  instantly  jerking  it 
upward,  shot  the  beer,  a  single  splash,  into 
Kiddo's  face.  'There  are  things  I  must  teach 
you,  I  see,  my  man,'  he  said,  without  moving 
a  muscle,  except  to  return  the  pot. 

Kiddo  Cook,  coughing,  drenched  and  con- 
founded, took  the  pot  instinctively  and  backed 
to  Mother  Gapp's  door,  while  the  bunch  of  faces 
at  the  bar  window  tossed  and  rolled  in  a 
joyous  ecstasy :  the  ghost  whereof  presently 
struggled  painfully  among  Kiddo's  own  dripping 
features,  as  he  realised  the  completeness  of  his 
defeat,  and  the  expedience  of  a  patient  grin. 
The  parson  went  calmly  on. 

Before  this,  indeed  when  he  left  the  Ropers' 
room,  and  just  after  Dicky  had  started  out, 
he  had  looked  in  at  the  Perrotts'  quarters  to 
speak  about  the  clock.  But  plainly  no  clock 
was  there,  and  Mrs  Perrott's  flaccid  indignation 
at  the  suggestion,  and  her  unmistakable  ignorance 
of  the  affair,  decided  him  to  carry  the  matter 
no  further,  at  any  rate  for  the  present.  More- 
over, the  little  hunchback's  tale  was  inconclusive. 


io6  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

He  had  seen  no  clock  in  Dicky's  possession — 
had  but  met  him  on  the  stairs  with  a  bulging 
jacket.  The  thing  might  be  suspicious,  but  the 
new  parson  knew  better  than  to  peril  his  in- 
fluence by  charging  where  he  could  not  convict. 
So  he  duly  commiserated  Hannah  Perrott's 
troubles,  suggested  that  the  baby  seemed  un- 
well and  had  better  be  taken  to  a  doctor,  and 
went  his  way  about  the  J  ago. 

Now  he  stopped  the  truck  by  Dicky's  front 
door  and  mounted  to  the  Ropers'  room.  For 
he  had  seen  that  the  Jago  was  no  place  for 
them  now,  and  had  himself  found  them  a  suit- 
able room  away  by  Dove  Lane.  And  so,  em- 
boldened by  his  company,  the  Ropers  came 
forth,  and  with  the  help  of  the  man  who  had 
brought  the  truck,  carried  down  the  pieces  of 
their  bedstead,  a  bundle  of  bedding,  the  two 
chairs,  the  pink  vases,  and  the  strip  of  old 
carpet,  and  piled  them  on  the  truck  with  the 
few  more  things  that  were  theirs. 

Dicky,  with  his  hand  on  the  music  box  in 
the  lining  of  his  jacket,  sauntered  up  by  the 
tail  of  the  truck,  and,  waiting  his  chance,  plunged 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  107 

his  gift  under  the  bundle  of  bedding,  and  left 
it  there.  But  the  little  hunchback's  sharp  eyes 
were  jealously  on  him,  and  '  Look  there ! '  he 
squealed,  "e  put  'is  'and  in  the  truck  an'  took 
somethink  ! ' 

'  Ye  lie ! '  answered  Dicky,  indignant  and  hurt, 
but  cautiously  backing  off;  '  I  ain't  got  nothink,' 
He  spread  his  hands  and  opened  his  jacket  in 
proof.     'Think  I  got  yer  bloomin'  bedstead?' 

He  had  nothing,  it  was  plain.  In  fact,  at  the 
tail  of  the  truck  there  was  nothing  he  could 
easily  have  moved  at  all,  certainly  nothing  he 
could  have  concealed.  So  the  rest  of  the  little 
removal  was  hurried,  for  heads  were  now  at 
windows,  the  loafers  began  to  draw  about  the 
truck,  and  trouble  might  break  out  at  any 
moment:  indeed,  the  Ropers  could  never  have 
ventured  from  their  room  but  for  the  general 
uneasy  awe  of  the  parson.  For  nothing  was 
so  dangerous  in  the  Jago  as  to  impugn  its 
honesty.  To  rob  another  was  reasonable  and 
legitimate,  and  to  avoid  being  robbed,  so  far 
as  might  be,  was  natural  and  proper.  But  to 
accuse  anybody  of  a  theft  was  unsportsmanlike, 


io8  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

a  foul  outrage,  a  shameful  abuse,  a  thing  un- 
pardonable. You  might  rob  a  man,  bash  a  man, 
even  kill  a  man ;  but  to  '  take  away  his  char- 
acter ' — even  when  he  had  none — was  to  draw 
down  the  execrations  of  the  whole  Jago ;  while 
to  assail  the  pure  fame  of  the  place — to  'give 
the  street  a  bad  name' — this  was  to  bring  the 
Jago  howling  and  bashing  about  your  ears. 

The  truck  moved  off  at  last,  amid  murmur- 
ings,  mutterings,  and  grunts  from  the  onlookers. 
The  man  of  the  truck  pulled.  Roper  shoved 
behind,  and  his  wife,  with  her  threadbare 
decency  and  her  meagre,  bruised  face,  carried 
the  baby,  while  the  hunchbacked  boy  went  by 
her  side.  All  this  under  convoy  of  the  Reverend 
Henry  Sturt. 

A  little  distance  gave  more  confidence  to 
a  few,  and,  when  the  group  had  reached 
within  a  score  of  yards  of  Edge  Lane,  there 
came  a  hoot  or  two,  a  *  Yah ! '  and  other  less 
spellable  sounds,  expressive  of  contempt  and 
defiance.  Roper  glanced  back  nervously,  but 
the  rest  held  on  their  way  regardless.  Then 
came  a   brickbat,   which   missed   the   woman   by 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  109 

very  little  and  struck  the  truck  wheel.  At  this 
the  parson  stopped  and  turned  on  his  heel,  and 
Cocko  Harnwell,  the  flinger,  drove  his  hands 
into  his  breeches  pockets  and  affected  an  in- 
terest in  Mother  Gapp's  window  ;  till,  perceiv- 
ing the  parson's  eyes  directed  sternly  upon  him, 
and  the  parson's  stick  rising  to  point  at  him, 
he  ingloriously  turned  tail  and  scuttled  into 
J  ago  Court. 

And  so  the  Ropers  left  the  Jago.  Dove 
Lane  was  but  a  stone's-throw  ahead  when  some 
of  the  load  shifted,  and  the  truck  was  stopped 
to  set  the  matter  right.  The  chest  was  pushed 
back,  and  the  bedding  was  lifted  to  put  against 
it,  and  so  the  musical  box  came  to  light.  Roper 
picked  it  up  and  held  it  before  the  vicar's  eyes. 
•  Look  at  that,  sir,'  he  said.  '  You'll  witness  I 
know  nothing  of  it,  won't  you?  It  ain't  mine, 
an*  I  never  saw  it  before.  It's  bin  put  in  for 
spite  to  put  a  theft  on  us.  When  they  come 
for  it  you'll  bear  me  out,  sir,  won't  you  ?  That 
was  the  Perrott  boy  as  was  put  up  to  do 
that,  I'll  be  bound.  When  he  was  behind  the 
truck.' 


no  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

But  nobody  came  for  Dicky's  gift,  and  in  the 
Jago  twilight  Dicky  vainly  struggled  to  whistle 
the  half-remembered  tune,  and  to  persuade  him- 
self that  he  was  not  sorry  that  the  box  was 
gone. 


XI 

JOSH  PERROTT  reached  home  late  for  tea 
but  in  good  humour.  He  had  spent  most 
of  the  day  at  the  Bag  of  Nails,  dancing 
attendance  on  the  High  Mobsmen.  Those  of 
the  High  Mob  were  the  flourishing  practitioners 
in  burglary,  the  mag,  the  mace,  and  the  broads, 
with  an  outer  fringe  of  such  dippers — such  pick- 
pockets— as  could  dress  well,  welshers,  and  snides- 
men.  These,  the  grandees  of  rascality,  lived  in 
places  far  from  the  Jago,  and  some  drove  in 
gigs  and  pony  traps.  But  they  found  the  Bag 
of  Nails  a  convenient  and  secluded  exchange 
and  house  of  call,  and  there  they  met,  made 
appointments,  designed  villainies,  and  tossed 
for  sovereigns :  deeply  reverenced  by  the  ad- 
miring Jagos,  among  whom  no  ambition  flourished 
but   this — to   become   also   of    these    resplendent 


112  A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO 

ones.  It  was  of  these  that  old  Beveridge  had 
spoken  one  day  to  Dicky,  in  language  the 
child  but  half  understood.  The  old  man  sat 
on  a  curb  in  view  of  the  Bag  of  Nails,  and 
smoked  a  blackened  bit  of  clay  pipe.  He 
hauled  Dicky  to  his  side,  and,  pointing  with 
his  pipe,  said  : — '  See  that  man  with  the  furs  ? ' 

'What?'  Dicky  replied.  'Mean  'im  in  the  ice- 
cream coat,  smokin'  a  cigar?     Yus.' 

'  And  the  other  with  the  brimmy  tall  hat,  and 
the  red  face,  and  the  umbrella?' 

'Yus.' 

'  What  are  they  ? ' 

'  'Igh  mob.     'Ooks.     Toffs.' 

'  Right.  Now,  Dicky  Perrott,  you  Jago  whelp, 
look  at  them — look  hard.  Some  day,  if  you're 
clever — cleverer  than  anyone  in  the  Jago  now — 
if  you're  only  scoundrel  enough,  and  brazen 
enough,  and  lucky  enough — one  of  a  thousand — 
maybe  you'll  be  like  them  :  bursting  with  high 
living,  drunk  when  you  like,  red  and  pimply. 
There  it  is — that's  your  aim  in  life — there's  your 
pattern.  Learn  to  read  and  write,  learn  all  you 
can,   learn   cunning,   spare   nobody   and    stop   at 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  113 

nothing,  and  perhaps — '  he  waved  his  hand  to- 
ward the  Bag  of  Nails.  '  It's  the  best  the  world 
has  for  you,  for  the  Jago's  got  you,  and  that's 
the  only  way  out,  except  gaol  and  the  gallows. 
So  do  your  devilmost,  or  God  help  you,  Dicky 
Perrott — though  he  wont:  for  the  Jago's  got 
you  ! ' 

Old  Bevcridge  had  eccentric  talk  and  manners, 
and  the  Jago  regarded  him  as  a  trifle  '  balmy,' 
though  anything  but  a  fool.  So  that  Dicky 
troubled  little  to  sift  the  meaning  of  what  he 
said. 

Josh  Perrott's  mission  among  the  High  Mob 
had  been  to  discover  some  Mobsman  who  might 
be  disposed  to  back  him  in  the  fight  with  Billy 
Leary.  For  though  a  private  feud  was  the  first 
cause  of  the  turn-up,  still  business  must  never 
be  neglected,  and  a  feud  or  anything  else  that 
could  produce  money  must  be  made  to  produce 
it,  and  when  a  fight  of  exceptional  merit  is  placed 
before  spectators,  it  is  but  fair  that  they  should 
pay  for  their  diversion. 

But  few  High  Mobsmen  were  at  the  Bag  of 
Nails  that  day.     Sunday  was  the  day  of  the  chief 

H 


114  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

gatherings  of  the  High  Mob  :  Sunday  the  market- 
day,  so  to  speak,  of  the  J  ago,  when  such  rent  as 
was  due  weekly  was  paid  (most  of  the  Jago  rents 
were  paid  daily  and  nightly)  and  other  accounts 
were  settled  or  fought  out.  Moreover,  the  High 
Mob  were  perhaps  a  trifle  shy  of  the  Jago  at  the 
time  of  a  faction  fight ;  and  one  was  but  just 
over,  and  that  cut  short  at  a  third  of  the  usual 
span  of  days.  So  that  Josh  waited  long  and 
touted  vainly,  till  a  patron  arrived  who  knew 
him  of  old  ;  who  had  employed  him,  indeed,  as 
'minder' — which  means  a  protector  or  a  bully, 
as  you  please  to  regard  it — on  a  racecourse  ad- 
venture involving  bodily  risk.  On  this  occasion 
Josh  had  earned  his  wages  with  hard  knocks 
given  and  taken,  and  his  employer  had  conceived 
a  high  and  thankful  opinion  of  his  capacity. 
Wherefore  he  listened  now  to  the  tale  of  the 
coming  fight,  and  agreed  to  provide  something 
in  the  way  of  stakes,  and  to  put  something  on 
for  Josh  himself:  looking  for  his  own  profit  to 
the  bets  he  might  make  at  favourable  odds  with 
his  friends.  For  Billy  Leary  was  notorious  as 
being  near  prime  ruffian  of  the  Jago,  while  Josh's 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  115 

reputation  was  neither  so  evil  nor  so  wide.  And 
so  it  was  settled,  and  Josh  came  pleased  to  his 
tea ;  for  assuredly  Billy  Leary  would  have  no 
difficulty  in  finding  another  notable  of  the  High 
Mob  to  cover  the  stakes. 

Dicky  was  at  home,  sitting  by  Looey  on  the 
bed ;  and  when  he  called  his  father  it  seemed 
pretty  plain  to  Josh  that  the  baby  was  out  of 
sorts.  *  She's  rum  about  the  eyes,'  he  said  to  his 
wife.  *  Blimy  if  she  don't  look  as  though  she  was 
goin'  to  squint.' 

Josh  was  never  particularly  solicitous  as  to  the 
children,  but  he  saw  that  they  were  fed  and 
clothed — perhaps  by  mere  force  of  the  habit  of 
his  more  reputable  days  of  plastering.  He  had 
brought  home  tripe,  rolled  in  paper,  and  stuffed 
into  his  coat  pocket,  to  make  a  supper  on  the 
strength  of  the  day's  stroke  of  business.  When 
this  tripe  was  boiled,  he  and  Dicky  essayed  to 
drive  morsels  into  Looey's  mouth,  and  to  wash 
them  down  with  beer ;  but  to  no  end  but  choking 
rejection.  Whereat  Josh  decided  that  she  must 
go  to  the  dispensary  in  the  morning.  And  in  the 
morning  he  took  her,  with  Dicky  at   his  heels ; 


ii6  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

for  not  only  did  his  wife  still  nurse  her  neck,  but 
in  truth  she  feared  to  venture  abroad. 

The  dispensary  was  no  charitable  institution, 
but  a  shop  so  labelled  in  Meakin  Street,  one 
of  half  a  dozen  such  kept  by  a  medical  man 
who  lived  away  from  them,  and  bothered  him- 
self as  little  about  them  as  was  consistent 
with  banking  the  takings  and  signing  the 
death-certificates.  A  needy  young  student,  whose 
sole  qualification  was  cheapness,  was  set  to  do 
the  business  of  each  place,  and  the  uniform 
price  for  advice  and  medicine  was  sixpence. 
But  there  was  a  deal  of  professional  character 
in  the  blackened  and  gilt  lettered  front 
windows,  and  the  sixpences  came  by  hundreds. 
For  hospital  letters  but  rarely  came  Meakin 
Street  way.  Such  as  did  were  mostly  in  the 
hands  of  tradesmen,  who  subscribed  for  the 
purpose  of  getting  them,  and  gave  them  to 
their  best  customers,  as  was  proper  and  busi- 
ness-like. And  so  the  dispensary  flourished, 
and  the  needy  young  student  grew  shifty  and 
callous,  and  no  doubt  there  were  occasional 
faith-cures.     Indeed,  cures  of  simple  science  were 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  117 

not  at  all  impossible.  For  there  was  always 
a  good  supply  of  two  drugs  in  the  place — 
Turkey  rhubarb  and  sulphuric  acid :  both 
very  useful,  both  very  cheap,  and  both  going 
very  far  in  varied  preparation,  properly  handled. 
An  ounce  or  two  of  sulphuric  acid,  for  in- 
stance, costing  something  fractional,  dilutes 
with  water  into  many  gallons  of  physic.  Ex- 
cellent medicines  they  made  too,  and  balanced 
each  other  very  well  by  reason  of  their  opposite 
effects.  But  indeed  they  were  not  all,  for 
sometimes  there  were  two  or  three  other 
drugs  in  hand,  interfering,  perhaps  trouble- 
somely,  with  the  simple  division  of  thera- 
peutics into  the  two  provinces  of  rhubarb  and 
sulphuric  acid. 

Business  was  brisk  at  the  dispensary :  several 
were  waiting,  and  medicine  and  advice  were 
going  at  the  rate  of  two  minutes  for  sixpence. 
Looey's  case  was  not  so  clear  as  most  of  the 
others :  she  could  not  describe  its  symptoms 
succinctly,  as  'a  pain  here,'  or  *a  tight  feeling 
there.'  She  did  but  lie  heavily,  staring  blankly 
upward    (she    did    not     mind     the     light     now), 


ii8  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

with  the  little  cast  in  her  eyes,  and  repeat 
her  odd  little  wail ;  and  Dicky  and  his  father 
could  tell  very  little.  The  young  student  had 
a  passing  thought  that  he  might  have  known 
a  trifle  more  of  the  matter  if  he  had  had 
time  to  turn  up  Ross  on  nerve  and  brain 
troubles  —  were  such  a  proceeding  consistent 
with  the  dignity  of  the  dispensary ;  but  straight- 
way assigning  the  case  to  the  rhubarb  province, 
made  up  a  powder,  ordered  Josh  to  keep  the 
baby  quiet,  and  pitched  his  sixpence  among  the 
others,  well  within  the  two  minutes. 

And  faith  in  the  dispensary  was  strengthened, 
for  indeed  Looey  seemed  a  little  better  after  the 
powder ;  and  she  was  fed  with  spoonfuls  of  a 
fluid  bought  at  a  chandler's  shop,  and  called 
milk. 


XII 

DICKY  PERROTT.  come  'ere,'  said  Mr 
Aaron  VVccch  in  a  voice  of  sad  rebuke, 
a  few  days  later.     '  Come  'ere,  Dicky  Perrott' 

He  shook  his  head  solemnly  as  he  stooped. 
Dicky  slouched  up. 

'  What  was  that  you  found  the  other  day  an' 
didn't  bring  to  me?' 

'Nuffin'.'     Dicky  withdrew  a  step. 

'  It's  no  good  you  a-tcllin'  me  that,  Dicky 
Perrott,  when  I  know  better.  You  know  very 
well  you  can't  pervcnt  me  knowin'.'  His  little 
eyes  searched  Dicky's  face,  and  Dicky  sulkily 
shifted  his  own  gaze  'You're  a  wicked,  un- 
grateful young  'ound,  an'  I've  a  good  mind  to 
tell  a  p'liceman  to  find  out  where  you  got  that 
clock.       Come   'ere    now — don't   you   try   runnin' 

away.      Wot !    after    me    a-takin'    you    in    when 

119 


I20  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

you  was  'ungry,  an'  givin'  you  cawfy  an'  cake, 
an'  good  advice  like  a  father,  an'  a  bloater  an' 
all,  an'  you  owin'  me  thrippence  a'peny  besides, 
then  you  goes  an' — an'  takes  yer  findin's  some- 
where else ! ' 

*  I  never ! '  protested  Dicky  stoutly.  But  Mr 
Wecch's  cunning,  equal  to  a  shrewd  guess  that 
since  his  last  visit  Dicky  had  probably  had 
another  'find,'  and  quick  to  detect  a  lie,  was 
slack  to  perceive  a  truth. 

'  Now  don't  you  go  an'  add  on  a  wicked  lie 
to  yer  sinful  ungratefulness,  wotever  you  do,'  he 
said,  severely.  'That's  wuss,  an'  I  alwis  know. 
Doncher  know  the  little  'ymn? — 

An'  'im  as  does  one  fault  at  fust 
An'  lies  to  'ide  it,  makes  it  two. 

It's  bad  enough  to  be  ungrateful  to  me  as  is 
bin  so  kind  to  you,  an'  it's  wuss  to  break  the 
fust  commandment.  If  the  bloater  don't  in- 
flooence  you,  the  'oly  'ymn  ought.  'Ow  would 
you  like  me  to  go  an'  ask  yer  father  for  that 
thrippence  a'peny  you  owe  me?  That's  wot 
I'll  'ave  to  do  if  you  don't  mind.' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  121 

Dicky  would  not  have  liked  it  at  all,  as  his 
frightened  face  testified. 

'  Then  find  somethink  an'  pay  it  at  once,  an' 
then  I  won't.  I  won't  be  'ard  on  you,  if  you'll 
be  a  good  boy.  But  don't  git  playin'  no  more 
tricks — 'cos  I'll  know  all  about  'em.  Now  go 
an'  find   somethink  quick.'     And  Dicky  went. 


XIII 

TEN  days  after  his  first  tour  of  the  Old 
Jago,  the  Reverend  Henry  Sturt  first 
preached  in  the  parish  church  made  of  a  stable, 
in  an  alley  behind  Meakin  Street,  but  few  yards 
away,  though  beyond  sight  and  sound  of  the 
Jago.  There,  that  Sunday  morning  was  a  morn- 
ing of  importance,  a  time  of  excitement,  for  the 
fight  between  Billy  Leary  and  Josh  Perrott 
was  to  come  off  in  Jago  Court.  The  assurance 
that  there  was  money  in  the  thing  was  a 
sovereign  liniment  for  Billy  Leary's  bruises — 
for  they  were  but  bruises — and  he  hastened  to 
come  by  that  money,  lest  it  melt  by  caprice  of 
the  backers,  or  the  backers  themselves  fall  at 
unlucky  odds  with  the  police.  He  made  little 
of  Josh   Perrott,  his  hardness   and    known   fight- 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  123 

ing  power  notwithstanding.  For  was  there  not 
full  a  stone  and  a  half  between  their  weights  ? 
and  had  Billy  not  four  or  five  inches  the 
better  in  height  and  a  commensurate  advantage 
in  reach?  And  Billy  Leary's  own  hardness 
and  fighting  power  were  well  proved  enough. 

It  was  past  eleven  o'clock.  The  weekly  rents 
— for  the  week  forthcoming — had  been  extracted, 
or  partly  extracted,  or  scuffled  over.  Old  Poll 
Rann,  who  had  made  money  in  sixty-five  years 
of  stall-farming  and  iniquity,  had  made  the 
rounds  of  the  six  houses  she  rented,  to  turn 
out  the  tenants  of  the  night  who  were  disposed 
to  linger.  Many  had  already  stripped  them- 
selves to  their  rags  at  pitch-and-toss  in  Jago 
Court  ;  and  the  game  still  went  busily  on  in 
the  crowded  area  and  in  overflow  groups  in  Old 
Jago  Street ;  and  men  found  themselves 
deprived,  not  merely  of  the  money  for  that 
day's  food  and  that  night's  lodging,  but  even 
of  the  last  few  pence  set  by  to  back  a  horse  for 
Tuesday's  race.  A  little-regarded  fight  or  two 
went  on  here  and  there  as  usual,  and  on  kerbs 
and   doorsteps   sat   women,   hideous   at   all   ages, 


124  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

filling     the     air     with     the     rhetoric     of      the 
Jago. 

Presently  down  from  Edge  Lane  and  the 
'  Posties '  came  the  High  Mobsmen,  swagger- 
ing in  check  suits  and  billycocks,  gold  chains 
and  lumpy  rings :  stared  at,  envied,  and  here 
and  there  pointed  out  by  name  or  exploit. 
'  Him  as  done  the  sparks  in  from  Regent  Street 
for  nine  centuries  o'  quids ' ;  *  Him  as  done  five 
stretch  for  a  snide  bank  bill  an'  they  never 
found  the  oof;  'Him  as  maced  the  bookies  in 
France  an'  shot  the  nark  in  the  boat ' ;  and  so 
forth.  And  the  High  Mob  being  come,  the 
fight  was  due. 

Of  course,  a  fight  merely  as  a  fight  was  no 
great  matter  of  interest :  the  thing  was  too 
common.  But  there  was  money  on  this ;  and 
again,  it  was  no  common  thing  to  find  Billy 
Leary  defied,  still  less  to  find  him  challenged. 
Moreover,  the  thing  had  a  Rann  and  Leary 
complexion,  and  it  arose  out  of  the  battle  of 
less  than  a  fortnight  back.  So  that  Josh  Perrott 
did  not  lack  for  partisans,  though  not  a  Rann 
believed  he  could  stand  long  before  Billy  Leary 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  125 

Billy's  cause,  too,  had  lost  some  popularity 
because  it  had  been  reported  that  Sally  Green, 
in  hospital,  had  talked  of  'summonsing'  Norah 
Walsh  in  the  matter  of  her  mangled  face :  a 
scandalous  device  to  overreach,  a  piece  of  foul 
practice  repugnant  to  all  proper  feeling ;  more 
especially  for  such  a  distinguished  Jago  as 
Sally  Green — so  well  able  to  take  care  of  her- 
self. But  all  this  was  nothing  as  affecting  the 
odds.  They  ruled  at  three  to  one  on  Billy 
Leary,  with  few  takers,  and  went  to  four  to  one 
before  the  fight  began. 

Josh  Perrott  had  been  strictly  sober  for  a  full 
week.  And  the  family  had  lived  better,  for  he 
had  brought  meat  home  each  day.  Now  he 
sat  indifferently  at  the  window  of  his  room, 
and  looked  out  at  the  crowd  in  Jago  Court  till 
such  time  as  he  might  be  wanted.  He  had  not 
been  out  of  the  room  that  morning :  he  was 
saving  his  energy  for  Billy  Leary. 

As  for  Dicky,  he  had  scarce  slept  for 
excitement.  For  days  he  had  enjoyed  considera- 
tion among  his  fellows  on  account  of  this  fight. 
Now     he     shook     and     quivered,     and     nothing 


126  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

relieved  his  agitation  but  violent  exertion.  So 
he  rushed  downstairs  a  hundred  times  to  see 
if  the  High  Mob  were  coming,  and  back  to 
report  that  they  were  not.  At  last  he  saw 
their  overbearing  checks,  and  tore  upstairs,  face 
before  knees,  with  '  'Ere  they  are,  father !  '  'Ere 
they  are !  They're  comin'  down  the  street, 
father ! '  and  danced  frenzied  about  the  room 
and  the  landing. 

Presently  Jerry  Gullen  and  Kiddo  Cook  came, 
as  seconds,  to  take  Josh  out,  and  then  Dicky 
quieted  a  little  externally,  though  he  was 
bursting  at  the  chest  and  throat,  and  his 
chin  jolted  his  teeth  together  uncontrollably. 
Josh  dragged  off  his  spotted  coat  and  waist- 
coat and  flung  them  on  the  bed,  and  then 
was  helped  out  of  his  ill-mended  blue  shirt.  He 
gave  a  hitch  to  his  trousers-band,  tightened  his 
belt,  and  was  ready. 

'  Ta-ta,  ol'  gal,'  he  said  to  his  wife,  with  a 
grin  ;  '  back  agin  soon.' 

*  With  a  bob  or  two  for  ye,'  added  Kiddo 
Cook,  grinning  likewise. 

Hannah    Perrott    sat    pale    and    wistful,    with 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  i2^ 

the  baby  on  her  knees.  Through  the  morning 
she  had  sat  so,  wretched  and  helpless,  some- 
times putting  her  face  in  her  hands,  sometimes 
breaking  out  hopelessly  : — *  Don't,  Josh,  don't — 
good  Gawd,  Josh,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  1 '  or 
*  Josh,  Josh,  I  wish  I  was  dead ! '  Josh  had 
fought  before,  it  was  true,  and  more  than 
once,  but  then  she  had  learned  of  the  matter 
afterward.  This  preparation  and  long  waiting 
were  another  thing.  Once  she  had  even  ex- 
claimed that  she  would  go  with  him — though 
she  meant  nothing. 

Now,  as  Josh  went  out  at  the  door,  she 
bent  over  Looey  and  hid  her  face  again. 
'  Good  luck,  father,'  called  Dicky,  *  go  it ! ' 
Though  the  words  would  hardly  pass  his 
throat,  and  he  struggled  to  believe  that  he 
had  no  fear  for  his  father. 

No  sooner  was  the  door  shut  than  he  rushed 
to  the  window,  though  Josh  could  not  appear 
in  Jago  Court  for  three  or  four  minutes  yet. 
The  sash-line  was  broken,  and  the  window 
had  been  propped  open  with  a  stick.  In  his 
excitement    Dicky   dislodged   the  stick,  and   the 


128  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

sash  came  down  on  his  head,  but  he  scarce 
felt  the  blow,  and  readjusted  the  stick  with 
trembling  hands,  regardless  of  the  bruise  rising 
under  his  hair. 

'  Aincher  goin'  to  look,  mother  ? '  he  asked. 
*  Wontcher  'old  up  Looey  ? ' 

But  his  mother  would  not  look.  As  for 
Looey,  she  looked  at  nothing.  She  had  been 
taken  to  the  dispensary  once  again,  and  now 
lay  drowsy  and  dull,  with  little  more  move- 
ment than  a  general  shudder  and  a  twitching 
of  the  face  at  long  intervals.  The  little  face 
itself  was  thinner  and  older  than  ever :  horribly 
flea-bitten  still,  but  bloodlessly  pale.  Mrs 
Perrott  had  begun  to  think  Looey  was  ailing 
for  something ;  thought  it  might  be  measles 
or  whooping-cough  coming,  and  complained 
that  children  were  a  continual  worry. 

Dicky  hung  head  and  shoulders  out  of  the 
window,  clinging  to  the  broken  sill  and  scrap- 
ing feverishly  at  the  wall  with  his  toes.  Jago 
Court  was  fuller  than  ever.  The  tossing  went 
on,  though  now  with  more  haste,  that  most 
might     be     made    of    the    remaining    time.       A 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  129 

scuffle  still  persisted  in  one  corner.  Some 
stood  to  gaze  at  the  High  Mob,  who,  to  the 
number  of  eight  or  ten,  stood  in  an  exalted 
group  over  against  the  back  fences  of  New 
Jago  Street;  but  the  thickest  knot  was  about 
Cocko  Harnwell's  doorstep,  whereon  sat  Billy 
Leary,  his  head  just  visible  through  the  press 
about  him,  waiting  to  keep  his  appointment. 

Then  a  close  group  appeared  at  the  arch- 
way, and  pushed  into  the  crowd,  which  made 
way  at  its  touch,  the  disturbed  tossers  pocket- 
ing their  coppers,  but  the  others  busily  per- 
sisting, with  no  more  than  a  glance  aside 
between  the  spins.  Josh  Perrott's  cropped 
head  and  bare  shoulders  marked  the  centre 
of  the  group,  and  as  it  came,  another  group 
moved  out  from  Cocko  Harnwell's  doorstep, 
with  Billy  Leary's  tall  bulk  shining  pink  and 
hairy  in  its  midst. 

'  'E's  in  the  court,  mother,'  called  Dicky, 
scraping  faster  with  his  toes. 

The  High  Mobsmen  moved  up  toward  the 
middle  of  the  court,  and  some  from  the  two 
groups     spread     and     pushed    back    the    crowd. 


I30  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Still  half  a  dozen  couples,  remote  by  the 
walls,  tossed  and  tossed  faster  than  ever,  mov- 
ing this  way  and  that  as  the  crowd  pressed. 

Now  there  was  an  irregular  space  of  bare 
cobble  stones  and  house  refuse,  five  or  six 
yards  across,  in  the  middle  of  Jago  Court, 
and  all  round  it  the  shouting  crowd  was 
packed  tight,  those  at  the  back  standing  on 
sills  and  hanging  to  fences.  Every  window 
was  a  clump  of  heads,  and  women  yelled 
savagely  or  cheerily  down  and  across.  The 
two  groups  were  merged  in  the  press  at  each 
side  of  the  space,  Billy  Leary  and  Josh  Perrott 
in  front  of  each,  with  his  seconds. 

*  Naa  then,  any  more  Tore  they  begin  ? '  bawled 
a  High  Mobsman,  turning  about  among  his 
fellows.  '  Three  to  one  on  the  big  'un  —  three 
to  one!  'Ere,  I'll  give  fours  —  four  to  one  on 
Leary !     Fourer  one  !     Fourer  one  ! ' 

But  they  shook  their  heads ;  they  would  wait 
a  little.  Leary  and  Perrott  stepped  out.  The 
last  of  the  tossers  stuffed  away  his  coppers,  and 
sought  for  a  hold  on  the  fence. 

'  They're  a-sparrin',  mother ! '  cried  Dicky,  pale 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  131 

and  staring,  elbows  and  legs  a-vvork,  till  he  was 
like  to  pitch  out  of  window.  From  his  mother 
there  but  jerked  a  whimpering  sob,  which  he 
did  not  hear. 

The  sparring  was  not  long.  There  was  little 
of  subtlety  in  the  milling  of  the  Jago :  mostly 
no  more  than  a  rough  application  of  the  main 
hits  and  guards,  with  much  rushing  and  ruffian- 
ing.  What  there  was  of  condition  in  the  two 
men  was  Josh's :  smaller  and  shorter,  he  had  a 
certain  hard  brownness  of  hide  that  Leary,  in 
his  heavy  opulence  of  flesh,  lacked  ;  and  there 
was  a  horny  quality  in  his  face  and  hands 
that  reminded  the  company  of  his  boast  of 
invulnerability  to  anything  milder  than  steel. 
Also  his  breadth  of  chest  was  great.  Never- 
theless all  odds  seemed  against  him,  by  reason 
of  Billy  Leary's  size,  reach,  and  fighting 
record. 

The  men  rushed  together,  and  Josh  was  forced 
back  by  weight.  Leary's  great  fists,  left  and 
right,  shot  into  his  face  with  smacking  reports, 
but  left  no  mark  on  the  leathery  skin,  and 
Josh,   fighting   for   the   body,  drove  his    knuckles 


132  A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO 

into  the  other's  ribs  with  a  force  that  jerked 
a  thick  grunt  from  Billy's  lips  at  each 
blow. 

There  was  a  roar  of  shouts.  '  Go  it,  father ! 
Fa — ther !  Fa — ther ! '  Dicky  screamed  from 
the  window,  till  his  voice  broke  in  his  throat 
and  he  coughed  himself  livid.  The  men  were 
at  holds,  and  swaying  this  way  and  that  over 
the  uneven  stones.  Blood  ran  copiously  from 
Billy  Leary's  nose  over  his  mouth  and  chin, 
and,  as  they  turned,  Dicky  saw  his  father  spit 
away  a  tooth  over  Leary's  shoulder.  They 
clipped  and  hauled  to  and  fro,  each  striving 
to  break  the  other's  foothold.  Then  Perrott 
stumbled  at  a  hole,  lost  his  feet,  and  went 
down,  with  Leary  on  top. 

Cheers  and  yells  rent  the  air,  as  each  man 
was  taken  to  his  own  side  by  his  seconds. 
Dicky  let  go  the  sill  and  turned  to  his  mother, 
wild  of  eye,  breathless  with  broken  chatter. 

*  Father  'it  'im  on  the  nose,  mother,  like  that 
— 'is  ribs  is  goin'  black  where  father  pasted  'em 
— 'e  was  out  o'  breath  fust — there'  blood  all 
over   'is  face,   mother — father   would   'a'   chucked 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  133 

'im  over  if  'e  'adii't  tumbled  in  a  'ole — father 
'it  'im  twice  on  the  jore — 'e — O  ! ' 

Dicky  was  back  again  on  the  sill,  kicking 
and  shouting,  for  time  was  called,  and  the  two 
men  rushed  again  into  a  tangled  knot.  But  the 
close  strife  was  short.  Josh  had  but  closed  to 
spoil  his  man's  wind,  and,  leaving  his  head  to 
take  care  of  itself,  stayed  till  he  had  driven  left 
and  right  on  the  mark,  and  then  got  back. 
Leary  came  after  him,  gasping  and  blowing 
already,  and  Josh  feinted  a  lead  and  avoided, 
bringing  Leary  round  on  his  heel  and  off  again 
in  chase.  Once  more  Josh  met  him,  drove  at 
his  ribs,  and  got  away  out  of  reach.  Leary's 
wind  was  going  fast,  and  his  partisans  howled 
savagely  at  Josh — perceiving  his  tactics — taunt- 
ing him  with  running  away,  daring  him  to  stand 
and  fight.  '  I'll  take  that  four  to  one,'  called  a 
High  Mobsman  to  him  who  had  offered  the 
odds  in  the  beginning.  *  I'll  stand  a  quid  on 
Perrott ! ' 

'  Not  with  me  you  won't,'  the  other  answered. 
'  Evens,  if  you  like.' 

'  Right.     Done  at  evens,  a  quid.' 


134  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Perrott,  stung  at  length  by  the  shouts  from 
Leary's  corner,  turned  on  Billy  and  met  him  at 
full  dash.  He  was  himself  puffing  by  this, 
though  much  less  than  his  adversary,  and,  at 
the  cost  of  a  heavy  blow  (which  he  took  on  his 
forehead),  he  visited  Billy's  ribs  once  more. 

Both  men  were  grunting  and  gasping  now, 
and  the  sound  of  blows  was  as  of  the  confused 
beating  of  carpets.  Dicky,  who  had  been 
afflicted  to  heart-burst  by  his  father's  dodg- 
ing and  running,  which  he  mistook  for  simple 
flight,  now  broke  into  excited  speech  once 
more : — 

'  Father's  'it  'im  on  the  jore  ag'in — 'is  eye's 
a-bungln'  up  —  Go  it,  fatJur,  bash  *i-i-i-m ! 
Father's  landin'  'im — 'e — ' 

Hannah  Perrott  crept  to  the  window  and 
looked.  She  saw  the  foul  Jago  mob,  swaying 
and  bellowing  about  the  shifting  edge  of  an 
open  patch,  in  the  midst  whereof  her  husband 
and  Billy  Leary,  bruised,  bloody  and  gasping, 
fought  and  battered  infuriately;  and  she  crept 
back  to  the  bed  and  bent  her  face  on  Looey's 
unclean   little  frock ;  till  a  fit   of  tense  shudder- 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  135 

ing  took  the  child,  and  the  mother  looked 
up  again. 

Without,  the  round  ended.  For  a  full  minute 
the  men  took  and  gave  knock  for  knock,  and 
then  Leary,  wincing  from  another  body-blow, 
swung  his  right  desperately  on  Perrott's  ear,  and 
knocked  him  over. 

Exulting  shouts  rose  from  the  Leary  faction, 
and  the  blow  struck  Dicky's  heart  still.  But 
Josh  was  up  almost  before  Kiddo  Cook  reached 
him,  and  Dicky  saw  a  wide  grin  on  his  face 
as  he  came  to  his  corner.  The  leathery  tough- 
ness of  the  man,  and  the  advantage  it  gave 
him,  now  grew  apparent.  He  had  endured  to 
the  full  as  much  and  as  hard  punching  as  had 
his  foe — even  more,  and  harder;  once  he  had 
fallen  on  the  broken  cobble-stones  with  all 
Leary's  weight  on  him ;  and  once  he  had 
been  knocked  down  on  them.  But,  except 
for  the  sweat  that  ran  over  his  face  and  down 
his  back,  and  for  a  missing  front  tooth  and 
the  lip  it  had  cut,  he  showed  little  sign  of  the 
struggle ;  while  Leary's  left  eye  was  a  mere 
slit  in  a  black  wen,  his  nose  was  a  beaten  mass^ 


136  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

which  had  ensanguined  him  (and  indeed  Josh) 
from  crown  to  waist,  and  his  chest  and  flanks 
were  a  mottle  of  bruises. 

'  Father's  awright,  mother — I  see  'im  laughin' ! 
And  'e's  smashed  Leary's  nose  all  over  'is 
face!' 

Up  again  they  sprang  for  the  next  round, 
Perrott  active  and  daring,  Leary  cautious  and 
a  trifle  stiff.  Josh  rushed  in  and  struck  at  the 
tender  ribs  once  more,  took  two  blows  callously 
on  his  head,  and  sent  his  left  at  the  nose,  with 
a  smack  as  of  a  flail  on  water.  With  that 
Leary  rushed  like  a  bull,  and  Josh  was  driven 
and  battered  back,  for  the  moment  without  re- 
sponse. But  he  ducked,  and  slipped  away,  and 
came  again,  fresh  and  vicious.  And  now  it 
was  seen  that  Perrott's  toughness  of  hand  was 
lasting.  Leary's  knuckles  were  raw,  cut,  and 
flayed,  and  took  little  good  by  the  shock  when 
they  met  the  other's  stubborn  muzzle;  while 
Josh  still  flung  in  his  corneous  fists,  hard  and 
lasting  as  a  bag  of  bullets. 

But  suddenly,  stooping  to  reach  the  mark 
once   more,    Josh's   foot   turned   on    a   projecting 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  137 

stone,  and  he  floundered  forward  into  Billy's 
arms.  Like  a  flash  his  neck  was  clipped  in 
the  big  man's  left  arm :  Josh  Perrott  was  in 
chancery.  Quick  and  hard  Lcary  pounded  the 
imprisoned  head,  while  Jerry  Gullen  and  Kiddo 
Cook  danced  distracted  and  dismayed,  and  the 
crowd  whooped  and  yelled. 

Dicky  hung  delirious  over  the  sill,  and  shrieked 
he  knew  not  what.  He  saw  his  father  fighting 
hard  at  the  back  and  ribs  with  both  hands, 
and  Leary  hammering  his  face  in  a  way  to 
make  pulp  of  an  ordinary  mazzard.  Then 
suddenly  Josh  Perrott's  right  hand  shot  up 
from  behind,  over  Leary's  shoulder,  and  gripped 
him  at  the  chin.  Slowly,  with  tightened  muscles, 
he  forced  his  man  back  over  his  bent  knee, 
Leary  clinging  and  swaying,  but  impotent  to 
struggle.  Then,  with  an  extra  wrench  from 
Josh,  up  came  Leary's  feet  from  the  ground, 
higher,  higher,  till  suddenly  Josh  flung  him 
heavily  over,  heels  up,  and  dropped  on  him 
with  all  his  weight. 

The  Ranns  roared  again.  Josh  was  up  in 
a   moment,  sitting    on    Kiddo   Cook's   knee,  and 


138  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

taking  a  drink  from  a  bottle.  Billy  Leary  lay 
like  a  man  fallen  from  a  house-top.  His  seconds 
turned  him  on  his  back,  and  dragged  him  to 
his  corner.  There  he  lay  limp  and  senseless, 
and  there  was  a  cut  at  the  back  of  his  head. 

The  High  Mobsman  who  held  the  watch 
waited  for  half  a  minute  and  then  called 
'  Time ! '  Josh  Perrott  stood  up,  but  Billy 
Leary  was  knocked  out  of  knowledge,  and  heard 
not.     He  was  beaten. 

Josh  Perrott  was  involved  in  a  howling, 
dancing  crowd,  and  was  pushed,  grinning,  this 
way  and  that,  slapped  on  the  back,  and  offered 
drinks.  In  the  outskirts  the  tossers,  inveterate, 
pulled  out  their  pence  and  resumed  their 
game. 

Dicky  spun  about,  laughing,  flushed,  and 
elated,  and  as  soon  as  the  door  was  distinct 
to  his  dazzled  sight,  he  ran  off  downstairs. 
His  mother,  relieved  and  even  pleased,  specu- 
lated as  to  what  money  the  thing  might  bring. 
She  put  the  baby  on  the  bed,  and  looked  from 
the  window. 

Josh,    in    the    crowd,    shouted    and    beckoned 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  139 

her,  pointing  and  tapping  his  bare  shoulder. 
He  wanted  his  clothes.  She  gathered  together 
the  shirt,  the  coat,  and  the  waistcoat,  and 
hurried  downstairs.  Looey  could  come  to  no 
harm  lying  on  the  bed  for  a  few  minutes. 
And,  indeed,  Hannah  Perrott  felt  that  she  would 
be  a  person  of  distinction  in  the  crowd,  and  was 
not  sorry  to  have  an  excuse  for  going  out. 

'  Three  cheers  for  the  missis ! '  sang  out  Kiddo 
Cook  as  she  came  through  the  press.  '  I  said 
'e'd  'ave  a  bob  or  two  for  you,  didn't  I?'  Josh 
Perrott,  indeed,  was  rich — a  capitalist  of  five 
pounds.  For  a  sovereign  a  side  had  been  put 
up,  and  his  backer  had  put  on  a  sovereign  for 
him  at  three  to  one.  So  that  now  it  became 
him  to  stand  beer  to  many  sympathisers.  Also, 
he  felt  that  the  missis  should  have  some  part 
in  the  celebration,  for  was  it  not  her  injury  that 
he  had  avenged  on  Sally  Green's  brother?  So 
Hannah  Perrott,  pleased  though  timorous,  was 
hauled  away  with  the  rest  to  Mother  Gapp's. 

Here  she  sat  by  Josh's  side  for  an  hour. 
Once  or  twice  she  thought  of  Looey,  but  with 
native   inertness   she   let   the   thought  slip.     Per- 


I40  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

haps  Dicky  would  be  back,  and  at  any  rate  it 
was  hard  if  she  must  not  take  half  an  hour's 
relaxation  once  in  a  way.  At  last  came  Dicky, 
urgent  perplexity  in  his  face,  looking  in  at  the 
door.  Josh,  minded  to  be  generous  all  round, 
felt  for  a  penny. 

'  Mother,'  said  Dicky,  plucking  at  her  arm, 
'  Pigeony  Poll's  at  'ome,  nussin'  Looey ;  she 
told  me  to  tell  you  to  come  at  once.' 

Pigeony  Poll  ?  What  right  had  she  in  the 
room  ?  The  ghost  of  Hannah  Perrott's  respecta- 
bility rose  in  resentment.  She  supposed  she 
must  go.  She  arose,  mystified,  and  went,  with 
Dicky  at  her  skirts. 

Pigeony  Poll  sat  by  the  window  with  the 
baby  in  her  arms,  and  pale  misgiving  in  her 
dull  face.  '  I — I  come  in,  Mrs  Perrott,  mum,' 
she  said,  with  a  hush  in  her  thick  voice,  '  I 
come  in  'cos  I  see  you  goin'  out,  an'  I  thought 
the  baby'd  be  alone.  She — she's  'ad  a  sort  o' 
fit — all  stiff  an'  blue  in  the  face  and  grindin'  'er 
little  mouth.  She's  left  auf  now — but  I — I  dunno 
what  to  make  of  'er.     She's  so — so — ' 

Hannah  Perrott  stared  blankly,  and  lifted  the 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  141 

child,  whose  arm  dropped  and  hung.  The  wizen 
age  had  gone  from  Looey's  face,  and  the  lids 
were  down  on  the  strained  eyes ;  her  pale  lips 
lay  eased  of  the  old  pinching — even  parted  in 
a  smile.  For  she  looked  in  the  face  of  the 
Angel  that  plays  with  the  dead  children. 

Hannah  Perrott's  chin  fell.  *  Lor','  she  said 
bemusedly,  and  sat  on  the  bed. 

An  odd  croaking  noise  broke  in  jerks  from 
Pigeony  Poll  as  she  crept  from  the  room,  with 
her  face  bowed  in  the  bend  of  her  arm,  like  a 
weeping  schoolboy.  Dicky  stared,  confounded.  .  .  . 
Josh  came  and  gazed  stupidly,  with  his  mouth 
open,  walking  tip-toe.  But  at  a  word  from 
Kiddo  Cook,  who  came  in  his  tracks,  he  snatched 
the  little  body  and  clattered  off  to  the  dispen- 
sary, to  knock  up  the  young  student. 

The  rumour  went  in  the  Jago  that  Josh  Perrott 
was  in  double  luck.  For  here  was  insurance 
money  without  a  doubt.  But  in  truth  that  was 
a  thing  the  Pcrrotts  had  neglected. 

Hannah  Perrott  felt  a  listless  relief ;  Josh  felt 


142  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

nothing  in  particular,  except  that  there  was  no 
other  thing  to  be  done,  and  that  Mother  Gapp's 
would  be  a  cheerful  place  to  finish  the  day  in, 
and  keep  up  the  missis's  pecker. 

So  that  eight  o'clock  that  evening  at  Perrotts' 
witnessed  a  darkening  room  wherein  an  incon- 
siderable little  corpse  lay  on  a  bed ;  while  a  small 
ragamuffin  spread  upon  it  with  outstretched  arms, 
exhausted  with  sobbing,  a  soak  of  muddy  tears  : — 
*  O  Looey,  Looey !  Can't  you  'ear  ?  Won't  you 
never  come  to  me  no  more?' 

And  the  Reverend  Henry  Sturt,  walking  from 
church  through  Luck  Row  toward  his  lodgings 
in  Kingsland  Road,  heard  shouts  and  riot  behind 
the  grimy  panes  of  Mother  Gapp's,  and  in  the 
midst  the  roar  of  many  voices  joined  in  the  Jago 
chant: — 

Six  bloomiri  long  months  in  a  prison^ 
Six  more  bloomit^  months  I  must  stay, 

For  rncetin^  a  bloke  in  our  alley, 
Afi  takiii  Hs  uxter  away  ! 

Toora-li — toora-li — looral, 

Toora-li — toora-li— lay, 
A-coshin^  a  bloke  in  our  alley. 

An'  takitH  Hs  uxter  away  ! 


XIV 

ON  an  autumn  day  four  years  after  his  first 
coming  to  the  Jago,  the  Reverend  Henry 
Sturt  left  a  solicitor's  office  in  Cheapside,  and 
walked  eastward,  with  something  more  of  hope 
and  triumph  in  him  than  he  had  felt  since  the  Jago 
fell  to  his  charge.  For  the  ground  was  bought 
whereon  should  be  built  a  church  and  buildings 
accessory,  and  he  felt,  not  that  he  was  like  to 
see  any  great  result  from  his  struggle,  but  that 
perhaps  he  might  pursue  it  better  armed  and  with 
less  of  grim  despair  than  had  been  his  portion 
hitherto. 

It  had  taken  him  four  years  to  gather  the 
money  for  the  site,  and  some  of  it  he  was  pay- 
ing from  his  own  pocket.  He  was  unmarried, 
and  had  therefore  no  reason  to  save.  Still,  he 
must  be  careful,  for  the  sake  of   the  parish  :   the 

143 


144  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

church  must  be  built,  and  some  of  the  money 
would  probably  be  wanted  for  that.  Moreover, 
there  were  other  calls.  The  benefice  brought  a 
trifle  less  than  ;6^200  a  year,  and  out  of  that,  so  far 
as  it  would  go,  he  paid  (with  some  small  outside 
help)  ^^130  for  rent  of  the  temporary  church  and 
the  adjacent  rooms  ;  the  organist's  salary ;  the  rates 
and  the  gas-bills ;  the  cost  of  cleaning,  care,  and 
repair ;  the  sums  needed  for  such  relief  as  was 
impossible  to  be  withheld ;  and  a  thousand  small 
things  beside.  While  the  Jagos  speculated  wildly 
among  themselves  as  to  the  vast  sums  he  must 
make  by  his  job.  For  what  toff  would  come  and 
live  in  the  Jago  except  for  a  consideration  of  solid 
gain?  What  other  possible  motive  could  there 
be,  indeed  ? 

Still,  he  had  an  influence  among  them  such  as 
they  had  never  known  before.  For  one  thing, 
they  feared  in  him  what  they  took  for  a  sort 
of  supernatural  insight.  The  mean  cunning  of  the 
Jago,  subtle  as  it  was,  and  baffling  to  most 
strangers,  foundered  miserably  before  his  relentless 
intelligence  ;  and  crafty  rogues — '  wide  as  Broad 
Street,'   as   their   proverb   went — at    first    sulked. 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  145 

faltered  and  prevaricated  transparently,  but  soon 
gave  up  all  hope  or  effort  to  deceive  him.  Thus 
he  was  respected.  Once  he  had  made  it  plain 
that  he  was  no  common  milch-cow  in  the  matter  of 
gratuities :  to  be  bamboozled  for  shillings,  cajoled 
for  coals,  and  bullied  for  blankets  :  then  there 
became  apparent  in  him  qualities  of  charity  and 
lovingkindness,  well-judged  and  governed,  that 
awoke  in  places  a  regard  that  was  in  a  way  akin 
to  affection.  And  the  familiar  habit  of  the  Jago 
slowly  grew  to  call  him  Father  Sturt. 

Father  Sturt  was  not  to  be  overreached :  that 
was  the  axiom  gloomily  accepted  by  all  in  the 
Jago  who  lived  by  what  they  accounted  their  wits. 
You  could  not  juggle  shillings  and  clothing  (con- 
vertible into  shillings)  out  of  Father  Sturt  by  the 
easy  fee-faw-fum  of  repentance  and  salvation  that 
served  with  so  many.  There  were  many  of  the 
Jagos  (mightily  despised  by  some  of  the  sturdier 
ruffians)  who  sallied  forth  from  time  to  time  into 
neighbouring  regions  in  pursuit  of  the  profitable 
sentimentalist :  discovering  him  —  black  -  coated, 
earnest,  green — sometimes  a  preacher,  sometimes 
a  layman,  sometimes  one  having  authority  on  the 


146  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

committee  of  a  charitable  institution ;  dabbling 
in  the  East  End  on  his  own  account,  or  adminis- 
tering relief  for  a  mission,  or  disbursing  a  Mansion 
House  Fund.  He  was  of  two  chief  kinds  :  the 
Merely-Soft, — the  '  man  of  wool '  as  the  J  ago  word 
went,  —  for  whom  any  tale  was  good  enough, 
delivered  with  the  proper  wistful  misery :  and  the 
Gullible-Cocksure,  confident  in  a  blind  experience, 
who  was  quite  as  easy  to  tap,  when  approached 
with  a  becoming  circumspection.  A  rough  and 
ready  method,  which  served  well  in  most  cases 
with  both  sorts,  was  a  profession  of  sudden  re- 
ligious awakening.  For  this,  one  offered  an  aspect 
either  of  serene  happiness  or  of  maniacal  exaltation, 
according  to  the  customer's  taste.  A  better  way, 
but  one  demanding  greater  subtlety,  was  the 
assumption  of  the  part  of  Earnest  Inquirer, 
hesitating  on  the  brink  of  Salvation.  For  the 
attitude  was  capable  of  indefinite  prolongation, 
and  was  ever  productive  of  the  boots,  the  coats, 
and  the  half-crowns  used  to  coax  weak  brethren 
into  the  fold.  But  with  Father  Sturt,  such  trouble 
was  worse  than  useless ;  it  was,  indeed,  but  to 
invite   a    humiliating    snub.      Thus,   when    Fluffy 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  147 

Pike  first  came  to  Father  Sturt  with  the  in- 
telligence that  he  had  at  last  found  Grace,  the 
Father  Sturt  asked  if  he  had  found  it  in  a  certain 
hamper — a  hamper  hooked  that  morning  from  a 
railway  van — and  if  it  were  of  a  quality  likely  to 
inspire  an  act  of  restoration  to  the  goods  office. 
Nothing  was  to  be  done  with  a  man  of  this  dis- 
gustingly practical  turn  of  mind,  and  the  Jagos 
soon  ceased  from  trying. 

Father  Sturt  had  made  more  of  the  stable  than 
the  make-shift  church  he  had  found.  He  had 
organised  a  club  in  a  stable  adjoining,  and  he 
lived  in  the  rooms  over  the  shut-up  shop.  In 
the  club  he  gathered  the  men  of  the  Jago  in- 
discriminately, with  the  sole  condition  of  good 
behaviour  on  the  premises.  And  there  they 
smoked,  jumped,  swung  on  horizontal  bars,  boxed, 
played  at  cards  and  bagatelle,  free  from  inter- 
ference save  when  interference  became  necessary. 
For  the  women  there  were  sewing-meetings  and 
singing.  And  all  governed  with  an  invisible  dis- 
cipline, which,  being  brought  to  action,  was  found 
to  be  of  iron. 

Now  there  was  ground  on  which  might  be  built 


148  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

a  worthier  church  ;  and  Father  Sturt  had  in  mind 
a  church  which  should  have  by  its  side  a  cleanly 
lodging-house,  a  night-shelter,  a  club,  baths  and 
washhouses.  And  at  a  stroke  he  would  estab- 
lish this  habitation  and  wipe  out  the  blackest 
spot  in  the  Jago.  For  the  new  site  comprised 
the  whole  of  Jago  Court  and  the  houses  that 
masked  it  in  Old  Jago  Street. 

This  was  a  dream  of  the  future  —  perhaps  of 
the  immediate  future,  if  a  certain  new  millionaire 
could  only  be  interested  in  the  undertaking — 
but  of  the  future  certainly.  The  money  for  the 
site  alone  had  been  hard  enough  to  gather.  In 
the  first  place  the  East  London  Elevation  Mission 
and  Pansophical  Institute  was  asking  very  dili- 
gently for  funds — and  was  getting  them.  It  was 
to  that,  indeed,  that  people  turned  by  habit  when 
minded  to  invest  in  the  amelioration  of  the  East 
End.  Then  about  this  time  there  had  arisen  a 
sudden  quacksalver,  a  Panjandrum  of  philan- 
thropy, a  mummer  of  the  market  -  place,  who 
undertook,  for  a  fixed  sum,  to  abolish  poverty 
and  sin  together ;  and  many,  pleased  with  the 
new  gaudery,  poured  out  before  him  the  money 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  149 

that  had  gone  to  maintain  hospitals  and  to  feed 
proved  charities.  So  that  gifts  were  scarce  and 
hard  to  come  by — indeed,  were  apt  to  be  thought 
unnecessary,  for  was  not  misery  to  be  destroyed 
out  of  hand  ?  Moreover,  Father  Sturt  wanted  not 
for  enemies  among  the  Sentimental-Cocksure.  He 
was  callous  and  cynical  in  face  of  the  succulent 
penitence  of  Fluffy  Pike  and  his  kind.  He  pre- 
ferred the  frank  rogue  before  the  calculating 
snivelmonger.  He  had  a  club  at  which  boxing 
was  allowed,  and  dominoes  —  flat  ungodliness. 
He  shook  hands  familiarly  every  day  with  the 
lowest  characters :  his  tastes  were  vulgar  and 
brutal.  And  the  company  at  his  club  was  really 
dreadful.  These  things  the  Cocksure  said,  with 
shaking  of  heads ;  and  these  they  took  care 
should  be  known  among  such  as  might  give 
Father  Sturt  money.  Father  Sturt ! — the  name 
itself  was  sheer  papistry.  And  many  comforted 
themselves  by  writing  him  anonymous  letters, 
displaying  hell  before  his  eyes,  and  dealing  him 
vivid  damnation. 

So  Father  Sturt  tramped  back  to  the  Jago,  and 
to  the  strain  and  struggle  that  ceased  not  for  one 


ISO  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

moment  of  his  life,  though  it  left  never  a  mark 
of  success  behind  it.  For  the  Jago  was  much  as 
ever.  Were  the  lump  once  leavened  by  the 
advent  of  any  denizen  a  little  less  base  than  the 
rest,  were  a  native  once  ridiculed  and  persuaded 
into  a  spell  of  work  and  clean  living,  then  must 
Father  Sturt  hasten  to  drive  him  from  the  Jago 
ere  its  influence  suck  him  under  for  ever ;  leaving 
for  his  own  community  none  but  the  entirely 
vicious.  And  among  these  he  spent  his  life ; 
preaching  little,  in  the  common  sense,  for  that 
were  but  idle  vanity  in  this  place;  but  working, 
alleviating,  growing  into  the  Jago  life,  flinging 
scorn  and  ridicule  on  evil  things,  grateful  for  tiny 
negative  successes — for  keeping  a  few  from  ill- 
behaviour  but  for  an  hour;  conscious  that  wher- 
ever he  was  not,  iniquity  flourished  unreproved  ; 
and  oppressed  by  the  remembrance  that  albeit 
the  Jago  death-rate  ruled  full  four  times  that  of 
all  London  beyond,  still  the  Jago  rats  bred  and 
bred  their  kind  unhindered,  multiplying  apace 
and  infecting  the  world. 

In  Luck  Row  he  came  on  Josh  Perrott,  making 
for  home  with  something  under  the  skirt  of  his  coat 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  151 

'  How  d'ye  do,  Josh  ? '  said  Father  Sturt,  clap- 
ping a  hand  on  Josh's  shoulder,  and  offering  it 
as  Josh  turned  about. 

Josh,  with  a  shifting  of  the  object  under  his 
coat,  hastened  to  tap  his  cap-peak  with  his  fore- 
finger before  shaking  hands.  He  grinned  broadly, 
and  looked  this  way  and  that,  with  mingled 
gratification  and  embarrassment,  as  was  the  Jago 
way  in  such  circumstances.  Because  one  could 
never  tell  whether  Father  Sturt  would  exchange 
a  mere  friendly  sentence  or  two,  or,  with  con- 
cealed knowledge,  put  some  disastrous  question 
about  a  watch,  or  a  purse,  or  a  breastpin,  or 
what  not. 

•  Very  well,  thanks.  Father,'  answered  Josh,  and 
grinned  amiably  at  the  wall  beyond  the  vicar's 
elbow. 

'And  what  have  you  been  doing  just  lately?' 

'  Oo  —  odd  jobs,  Father.'  Always  the  same 
answer,  all  over  the  Jago. 

'  Not  quite  such  odd  jobs  as  usual,  I  hope. 
Josh,  eh?'  Father  Sturt  smiled,  and  twitched 
Josh  playfully  by  the  button-hole  as  one  might 
treat  a  child.     '  I   once  heard  of  a  very  odd  job 


152  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

in  the  Kingsland  Road  that  got  a  fine  young 
man  six  months'  holiday.     Eh,  Josh  ? ' 

Josh  Perrott  wriggled  and  grinned  sheepishly ; 
tried  to  frown,  failed,  and  grinned  again.  He 
had  only  been  out  a  few  weeks  from  that  six 
moon.  Presently  he  said  : — *  Awright,  Father  ; 
you  do  rub  it  into  a  bloke,  no  mistake.' 

The  grin  persisted  as  he  looked  first  at  the 
wall,  then  at  the  pavement,  then  down  the 
street,  but  never  in  the  parson's  face. 

'  Ah,  there's  a  deal  of  good  in  a  blister  some- 
times, isn't  there,  Josh  ?  What's  that  I  see — a 
clock  ?     Not  another  odd  job,  eh  ? ' 

It  was  indeed  a  small  nickel-plated  American 
clock  which  Josh  had  under  his  coat,  and  which 
he  now  partly  uncovered  with  positive  protests. 
'  No,  s'elp  me.  Father,  it's  all  straight — all  fair  trade. 
Father — ^jist  a  swop  for  somethink  else,  on  me 
solemn  davy.     That's  wot  it  is.  Father — straight' 

'Well,  Pm  glad  you  thought  to  get  it,  Josh,' 
Father  Sturt  pursued,  still  twitching  the  button- 
hole. 'You  never  have  been  a  punctual  church- 
goer, you  know.  Josh,  and  Pm  glad  you've 
made  arrangements  to  improve.     You'll  have  no 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  153 

excuse  now,  you  know,  and  I  shall  expect  you 
on  Sunday  morning — promptly.  Don't  forget: 
I  shall  be  looking  for  you.'  And  Father  Sturt 
shook  hands  again,  and  passed  on,  leaving  Josh 
Perrott  still  grinning  dubiously,  and  striving 
to  assimilate  the  invitation  to  church. 

The  clock  was  indeed  an  exchange,  though 
not  altogether  an  innocent  one  :  the  facts  being 
these.  Early  that  morning  Josh  had  found  him- 
self scrambling  hastily  along  a  turning  out  of 
Brick  Lane,  accompanied  by  a  parcel  of  nine  or 
ten  pounds  of  tobacco,  and  extremely  conscious 
of  the  hasty  scrambling  of  several  other 
people  round  the  corner.  Some  of  these  people 
turned  that  corner  before  Josh  reached  the 
next,  so  that  his  course  was  observed,  and  it 
became  politic  to  get  rid  of  his  parcel  be- 
fore a  possible  heading -off  in  Meakin  Street. 
There  was  one  place  where  this  might  be  done, 
and  that  was  at  Weech's.  A  muddy  yard,  one 
of  a  tangle  of  such  places  behind  Meakin 
Street,  abutted  on  Weech's  back-fence ;  and  it 
was  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  Jago  on  the 
crook,   hard    pressed,   to   pitch   his   plunder    over 


154  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

the  fence,  double  out  into  the  crowd,  and  call 
on  Mr  Aaron  Weech  for  the  purchase- money 
as  soon  as  opportunity  served.  The  manceuvre 
was  a  simple  one,  facilitated  by  the  plan  of  the 
courts ;  but  it  was  only  adopted  in  extreme 
cases,  because  Mr  Aaron  Weech  was  at  best 
but  a  mean  paymaster,  and  with  so  much  of 
the  upper  hand  in  the  bargain  as  these  circum- 
stances conferred,  was  apt  to  be  meaner  than 
ever.  But  this  case  seemed  to  call  for  the 
stratagem,  and  Josh  made  for  the  muddy  yard, 
dropped  the  parcel  over  the  fence,  with  a  loud 
whistle,  and  backed  off  by  the  side  passage  in 
the  regular  way. 

When  he  called  on  Mr  Aaron  Weech  a  few 
hours  later,  that  talented  tradesman,  with 
liberal  gestures,  told  out  shillings  singly  in 
his  hand,  pausing  after  each  as  though  that 
were  the  last.  But  Josh  held  his  hand 
persistently  open,  till  Mr  Weech,  having 
released  the  fifth  shilling,  stopped  altogether, 
scandalised  at  such  rapacity.  But  still  Josh 
was  not  satisfied,  and  as  he  was  not  quite  so 
easy   a   customer    to    manage   as    the   boys   who 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  155 

commonly  fenced  at  the  shop,  Mr  Weech  com- 
promised, in  the  end,  by  throwing  in  a  cheap 
clock.  It  had  been  in  hand  for  a  long  time  ; 
and  Josh  was  fain  to  take  it,  since  he  could 
get  no  more.  And  thus  it  was  that  Dicky, 
coming  in  at  about  five  o'clock,  was  astonished 
to  see  on  the  mantelpiece,  amid  the  greasy 
ruins  of  many  candle  ends,  the  clock  that  had 
belonged  to  the  Ropers  four  years  before. 


XV 

S  for  Dicky,  he  went  to  school.  That  is  to 
say,  he  turned  up  now  and  again,  at  ir- 
regular intervals,  at  the  Board  School  just  over  the 
Jago  border  in  Honey  Lane.  When  anything  was 
given  away,  he  attended  as  a  matter  of  course ;  but 
he  went  now  and  again  without  such  inducement — 
perhaps  because  he  fancied  an  afternoon's  change, 
perhaps  because  the  weather  was  cold  and  the 
school  was  warm.  He  was  classed  as  a  half- 
timer,  an  arrangement  which  variegated  the 
register,  but  otherwise  did  not  matter.  Other 
boys,  half-timers  or  not,  attended  as  little  as 
he.  It  was  long  since  the  managers  had  realised 
the  futility  of  attempting  compulsion  in  the 
Jago. 

Dicky   was    no    fool,   and    he    had   picked    up 
some   sort   of    reading    and    writing   as   he    went 

'56 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  157 

along.  Moreover,  he  had  grown  an  expert 
thief,  and  had  taken  six  strokes  of  a  birch- 
rod  by  order  of  a  magistrate.  As  yet  he  rarely 
attempted  a  pocket,  being,  for  most  opportuni- 
ties, too  small ;  but  he  was  comforted  by  the 
reflection  that  probably  he  would  never  get 
really  tall,  and  thus  grow  out  of  pocket-picking 
when  he  was  fully  experienced,  as  was  the  fate 
of  some.  For  no  tall  man  can  be  a  successful 
pickpocket,  because  he  must  bend  to  his  work, 
and  so  advertise  it  to  every  beholder. 

Meantime  Dicky  practised  that  petty  larceny 
which  is  possible  in  every  street  in  London ;  and 
at  odd  times  he  would  play  the  scout  among 
the  practitioners  of  the  '  fat's  a-running '  industry. 
If  one  crossed  Meakin  Street  by  way  of  Luck 
Row  and  kept  his  way  among  the  courts  ahead, 
he  presently  reached  the  main  Bethnal  Green 
Road,  at  the  end  whereof  stood  the  great  goods 
depot  of  a  railway  company.  Here  carts  and  vans 
went  to  and  fro  all  day,  laden  with  goods  from 
the  depot,  and  certain  gangs  among  the  Jagos 
preyed  on  these  continually.  A  quick  -  witted 
scout    stood    on    the    look-out   for    such   vehicles 


158  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

as     went     with    unguarded    tailboards.      At    the 
approach  of  one  such  he  sent  the  shout  '  Fat's  a- 
runnin' ! '  up  Luck  Row,  and,  quick  at  the  signal, 
a   gang   scuttled   down,  by  the  court  or   passage 
which    his    waved    hand    might    hint    at,    seized 
whatever  could   be  snatched   from    the   cart,  and 
melted  away  into   the   courts,  sometimes  leaving 
a    few   hands    behind    to    hinder    and    misdirect 
pursuit.      Taking   one   capture  with   another,  the 
thing    paid   very   well ;    and   besides,   there   were 
many   vans    laden    with   parcels    of   tobacco,   not 
from    the    railway   depot   but    from   the   tobacco 
factories   hard   by,   a   click    from   which   was   apt 
to  prove  especially  lucrative.      Dicky  was  a   not- 
able  success   as   scout.      The   department   was    a 
fairly   safe   one,   but   it   was   not   always   easy  to 
extract  from  the  gang  the  few  coppers  that  were 
regarded    as    sufficient    share    for    service    done. 
Moreover,  Mr   Weech   was   not   pleased ;    for   by 
now    Dicky    was    near    to    being    his    most    re- 
munerative client,  and  the  cart  robberies  counted 
nothing,  for  the  fat's  a-running  boys  fenced  their 
swag  with   a   publican   at    Hoxton.     And  though 
Dicky  had  grown  out  of  his  childish  belief  that 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  159 

Mr  VVeech  could  hear  a  mile  away  and  see 
through  a  wall,  he  had  a  cautious  dread  of  the 
weapon  he  supposed  to  He  ever  to  his  patron's 
hand — betrayal  to  the  police.  In  other  respects 
things  were  easier.  His  father  took  no  heed  of 
what  he  did,  and  even  his  mother  had  so  far 
accepted  destiny  as  to  ask  if  he  had  a  copper 
or  two,  when  there  was  a  scarcity.  Indeed 
Hannah  Perrott  filled  her  place  in  the  Jago 
better  than  of  old.  She  would  gossip,  she  drew 
no  very  rigid  line  as  to  her  acquaintance,  and 
Dicky  had  seen  her  drunk.  Still,  for  Old  Jago 
Street  she  was  a  quiet  woman,  and  she  never 
brawled  nor  fought.  Of  fighting,  indeed.  Josh 
could  do  enough  for  the  whole  family,  once 
again  four  in  number.  For  the  place  of  Looey, 
forgotten,  was  supplied  by  Em,  aged  two. 

When  Dicky  came  home  and  recognised  the 
clock  on  the  mantelpiece,  being  the  more  certain 
because  his  mother  told  him  it  had  come  from 
Weech's,  the  thing  irritated  him  strangely. 
Through  all  those  four  years  since  he  had 
carried  that  clock  to  Mr  Weech,  he  had 
never  got  rid  of  the  wretched  hunchback.      He, 


i6o  A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO 

too,  went  to  the  Board  School  in  Honey  Lane 
(it  lay  between  Dove  Lane  and  the  Jago),  but  he 
went  regularly,  worked  hard,  and  was  a  favourite 
with  teachers.  So  far,  Dicky  was  unconcerned. 
But  scarce  an  ill  chance  came  to  him  but, 
sooner  or  later,  he  found  the  hunchback  at  the 
back  of  it.  If  ever  a  teacher  mysteriously 
found  out  that  it  was  Dicky  who  had  drawn 
his  portrait,  all  nose  and  teeth,  on  the  black- 
board, the  tale  had  come  from  Bobby  Roper. 
Whenever  Dicky,  chancing  upon  school  by  ill 
luck  on  an  afternoon  when  sums  were  to  be 
done,  essayed  to  copy  answers  from  his  neigh- 
bour's slate,  up  shot  the  hunchback's  hand  in 
an  instant,  the  tale  was  told,  and  banders  were 
Dicky's  portion.  Once,  dinnerless  and  hungry, 
he  had  stolen  a  sandwich  from  a  teacher's  desk ; 
and,  though  he  had  thought  himself  alone  and 
unseen,  the  hunchback  knew  it,  and  pointed  him 
out,  white  malice  in  his  thin  face  and  eager 
hate  in  his  thrust  finger.  For  a  fortnight  Dicky 
dared  not  pass  a  little  fruit  shop  in  Meakin 
Street,  because  of  an  attempt  on  an  orange, 
betrayed    by   his    misshapen    schoolfellow,   which 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  i6i 

brought  him  a  hard  chase  from  the  fruiterer  and 
a  bad  bruise  on  the  spine  from  a  board  flung 
after  him.  The  hunchback's  whole  energies — 
even  his  whole  time — seemed  to  be  devoted  to 
watching  him.  Dicky,  on  his  part,  received  no 
injuries  meekly.  In  the  beginning  he  had  tried 
threats  and  public  jeers  at  his  enemy's  infirmity. 
Then,  on  some  especially  exasperating  occasion, 
he  pounded  Bobby  Roper  savagely  about  the 
head  and  capsized  him  into  a  mud-heap.  But 
bodily  reprisal,  though  he  erected  it  into  a  prac- 
tice, proved  no  deterrent.  For  the  little  hunch- 
back, though  he  might  cry  at  the  pummelling, 
retorted  with  worse  revenge  of  his  own  sort. 
And  once  or  twice  bystanders,  seeing  a  deformed 
child  thus  treated,  interfered  with  clouts  on 
Dicky's  ears.  The  victim,  moreover,  designed 
another  retaliation.  He  would  go  to  some 
bigger  boy  with  a  tale  that  Dicky  had  spoken 
vauntingly  of  fighting  him  and  beating  him 
hollow,  with  one  hand.  This  brought  the  big 
boy  after  Dicky  at  once,  with  a  hiding:  except 
on  some  rare  occasion  when  the  hunchback 
rated  his  instrument  of  vengeance  too  high,  and 


1 62  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Dicky  was  able  to  beat  him  in  truth.  But  this 
was  a  very  uncommon  mistake.  And  after  this 
Dicky  did  not  wait  for  specific  provocation :  he 
'clumped'  Bobby  Roper,  or  rolled  him  in  the 
gutter,  as  a  matter  of  principle,  whenever  he 
could  get  hold  of  him. 

That  afternoon  Dicky  had  suffered  again. 
Two  days  earlier,  tea  and  cake  had  been  pro- 
vided by  a  benevolent  manager  for  all  who 
attended  the  school.  Consequently  the  attend- 
ance was  excellent,  and  included  Dicky.  But 
his  attempt  to  secrete  a  pocketful  of  cake,  to 
carry  home  for  Em,  was  reported  by  Bobby 
Roper ;  and  Dicky  was  hauled  forth,  deprived 
of  his  plunder,  and  expelled  in  disgrace.  He 
waited  outside  and  paid  off  the  score  fiercely, 
by  the  help  of  a  very  long  and  pliant  cabbage 
stalk.  But  this  afternoon  Bill  Bates,  a  boy  a 
head  taller  than  himself  and  two  years  older, 
had  fallen  on  him  suddenly  in  Lincoln  Street, 
and,  though  Dicky  fought  desperately  and  kicked 
with  much  effect,  had  dealt  him  a  thrashing  that 
left  him  bruised,  bleeding,  dusty,  and  crying 
with     rage     and     pain.       This    was    the    hunch- 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  163 

back's  doing,  without  a  doubt.  Dicky  limped 
home,  but  was  something  comforted  by  an 
accident  in  Shoreditch  High  Street,  whereby  a 
coster's  barrow-load  of  cough-drops  was  knocked 
over  by  a  covered  van,  and  the  cough-drops  were 
scattered  in  the  mud.  For  while  the  carman 
and  the  coster  flew  at  each  other's  name  and 
address,  and  defamed  each  other's  eyes  and 
mother,  Dicky  gathered  a  handful  of  cough- 
drops,  muddy,  it  is  true,  but  easy  to  wipe. 
And  so  he  made  for  home  more  cheerfully 
disposed :  till  the  sight  of  the  Ropers'  old 
clock  brought  the  hunchback  to  mind  once 
more,  and  in  bitter  anger  he  resolved  to  search 
for  him  forthwith,  and  pass  on  the  afternoon's 
hiding,  with  interest. 

As  he  emerged  into  the  street,  a  hand  was 
reached  to  catch  him,  which  he  dodged  by 
instinct.  He  rushed  back  upstairs,  and  emptied 
his  pockets,  stowing  away  in  a  safe  corner 
the  rest  of  the  cough-drops,  the  broken  ruin 
he  called  his  knife,  some  buttons  and  pieces  of 
string,  a  bit  of  chalk,  three  little  pieces  of  slate 
pencil   and   two   marbles.      Then   he  went  down 


1 64  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

again  into  the  street,  confident  in  his  destitution, 
and  watched,  forgetting  the  hunchback  in  the 
excitement  of  the  spectacle. 

The  loafers  from  the  corners  had  conceived  a 
sudden  notion  of  co-operation,  and  had  joined 
forces  to  the  array  of  twenty  or  thirty.  Confident 
in  their  numbers,  they  swept  the  street,  stopping 
every  passenger — man,  woman  or  child — and 
emptying  all  pockets.  A  straggler  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  crowd,  a  hobbledehoy  like  most  of 
the  rest,  had  snatched  at  but  had  lost  Dicky,  and 
was  now  busy,  with  four  or  five  others,  rolling  a 
woman,  a  struggling  heap  of  old  clothes  and 
skinny  limbs,  in  the  road.  It  was  Biddy 
Flynn,  too  old  and  worn  for  anything  but 
honest  work,  who  sold  oranges  and  nuts  from  a 
basket,  and  who  had  been  caught  on  her  way  out 
for  her  evening's  trade  in  High  Street.  She  was 
a  fortunate  capture,  being  a  lone  woman  with  all 
her  possessions  about  her.  Under  her  skirt,  and 
tied  round  her  waist  with  string,  she  kept  her 
money-bag ;  and  it  was  soon  found  and  dragged 
away,  yielding  two  and  eightpence  farthing  and  a 
lucky  shoe-tip,  worn  round  and  bright.     She  had, 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  165 

moreover,  an  old  brass  brooch ;  but  unfortunately 
her  wedding  ring,  worn  to  pin-wire,  could  not  be 
got  past  the  knotted  knuckle — though  it  would 
have  been  worth  little  in  any  case.  So  Biddy 
Flynn,  exhausted  with  plunging  and  screaming, 
was  left,  and  her  empty  basket  was  flung  at  her. 
She  staggered  away,  wailing  and  rolling  her 
head,  with  her  hand  to  the  wall ;  and  the  gang, 
sharing  out,  sucked  oranges  with  relish,  and 
turned  to  fresh  exploits.  Dicky  watched  from 
the  Jago  Court  passage. 

Business  slackened  for  a  little  while,  and  the 
loafers  were  contemplating  a  raid  in  force  on 
Mother  Gapp's  till,  when  a  grown  lad  ran  in 
pell-mell  from  Luck  Row  with  a  square  parcel 
clipped  under  his  arm — a  parcel  of  aspect  well 
known  among  the  fat's  a-running  boys — a  parcel 
that  meant  tobacco.     He  was  collared  at  once. 

'  Stow  it.  Bill  I '  he  cried  breathlessly,  recog- 
nising his  captor.     '  The  bloke's  a-comin' ! ' 

But  half-a-dozen  hands  were  on  his  plunder, 
it  was  snatched  away,  and  he  was  flung  back  on 
the  flags.  There  was  a  clatter  on  the  stones  of 
Luck  Row,  and   a   light  van  came   rattling   into 


1 66  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Old  Jago  Street,  the  horse  galloping,  the  car- 
man lashing  and  shouting  : — '  Stop  'im  !  Stop 
thief  I' 

The  sight  was  so  novel  that  for  a  moment  the 
gang  merely  stared  and  grinned.  This  man 
must  be  a  greenhorn — new  to  the  neighbourhood 
— to  venture  a  load  of  goods  up  Luck  Row.  And 
it  was  tobacco,  too.  He  was  pale  and  flustered, 
and  he  called  wildly,  as  he  looked  this  way  and 
that : — *  A  man's  stole  somethin'  auf  my  van. 
Where's  'e  gawn  ? ' 

'  No  good,  guv'nor,'  cried  one.  '  The  ball's 
stopped  rollin'.     You're  lawst  'im.' 

'My  Gawd  1 '  said  the  man,  in  a  sweat,  'I'm 
done.  There's  two  quid's  worth  o'  'bacca — an' 
I  on'y  got  the  job  o'  Monday — bin  out  nine 
munse  !  ' 

'  Was  it  a  parcel  like  this  'ere  ? '  asked 
another,  chuckling,  and  lifting  a  second  packet 
over  the  tailboard. 

'Yus — put  it  down!  Gawd — wotcher  up  to? 
'Ere— 'elp!  'dp!' 

The  gang  were  over  the  van,  guffawing  and 
flinging     out     the     load.       The    carman     yelled 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  167 

aloud,  and  fought  desperately  with  his  whip — 
Bill  Hanks  is  near  blind  of  an  eye  now  from 
one  cut ;  but  he  was  the  worse  for  it  For  he 
was  knocked  off  the  van  in  a  heap,  and,  as  he 
lay,  they  cleared  his  pockets,  and  pulled  off  his 
boots;  those  that  had  caught  the  sting  of  the 
whip  kicking  him  about  the  head  till  it  but 
shifted  in  the  slime  at  the  stroke,  an  inanimate 
lump. 

There  was  talk  of  how  to  deal  with  the  horse 
and  van.  To  try  to  sell  them  was  too  large 
a  job,  and  too  risky.  So,  as  it  was  growing 
dusk,  the  senseless  carman  was  put  on  the  floor 
of  the  van,  the  tailboard  was  raised,  and  one 
of  the  gang  led  the  horse  away,  to  lose  the 
whole  thing  in  the  busy  streets. 

Here  was  a  big  haul,  and  many  of  the  crowd 
busied  themselves  in  getting  it  out  of  sight, 
and  scouting  out  among  the  fences  to  arrange 
sales.  Those  who  remained  grew  less  active, 
and  hung  at  the  corner  of  Luck  Row,  little 
more  than  an  ordinary  corner-group  of  loafers. 

Then  Dicky  remembered  the  hunchback,  and 
slouched  off  to  Dove  Lane.      But  he   could  see 


1 68  A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO 

nothing  of  Bobby  Roper.  The  Jago  and  Dove 
Lane  were  districts  ever  at  feud,  active  or 
smouldering,  save  for  brief  intervals  of  ostenta- 
tious reconcilation,  serving  to  render  the  next 
attack  on  Dove  Lane  the  more  savage — for  in- 
variably the  Jagos  were  aggressors  and  victors. 
Dicky  was  careful  in  his  lurkings,  therefore: 
lest  he  should  be  recognised  and  set  upon  by 
more  Dove  Lane  boys  than  would  be  con- 
venient. He  knew  where  the  Ropers  lived, 
and  he  went  and  hung  about  the  door.  Once 
he  fancied  he  could  hear  a  disjointed  tinkle, 
as  of  a  music-box  grown  infirm,  but  he  was 
not  sure  of  it.  And  in  the  end  he  contented 
himself,  for  the  present,  with  flinging  a  stone 
through  the  Ropers'  window,  and  taking  to  his 
heels. 

The  Jago  was  black  with  night,  the  rats 
came  and  went,  and  the  cosh-carriers  lurked 
on  landings.  On  a  step,  Pigeony  Poll,  drunk 
because  of  a  little  gin  and  no  food,  sang 
hideously  and  wept.  The  loafers  had  dispersed 
to  spend  their  afternoon's  makings.  The  group 
which    Dicky   had    left    by    Luck    Row    corner, 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  169 

indeed,  had  been  discouraged  early  in  the  even- 
ing in  consequence  of  an  attempt  at  '  turning 
over  *  old  Beveridge,  as  he  unsuspectingly 
stalked  among  them,  in  from  his  city  round. 
For  the  old  man  whipped  out  his  case-knife 
and  drove  it  into  the  flesh  of  Nobber  Sugg's 
arm,  at  the  shoulder — stabbed,  too,  at  another, 
and  ripped  his  coat.  So  Nobber  Sugg,  with  blood 
streaming  through  his  sleeve,  went  off  with 
two  more  to  tie  up  the  arm  ;  and  old  Beveridge, 
grinning  and  mumbling  fiercely,  strode  about 
the  street,  knife  in  hand,  for  ten  minutes,  ere 
he  grew  calm  enough  to  go  his  way.  This 
Tommy  Rann  told  Dicky,  sitting  in  the  back- 
yard and  smoking  a  pipe ;  a  pipe  charged  with 
tobacco  pillaged  from  a  tin-full  which  his  father 
had  bought,  at  about  fourpence  a  pound,  from  a 
loafer.  And  both  boys  crawled  indoors  deadly 
sick. 


XVI 

JOSH  PERROTT  was  at  church  On  Sunday 
morning,  as  Father  Sturt  had  bid  him. 
Not  because  of  the  bidding,  but  because 
the  vicar  overtook  him  and  Kiddo  Cook  in 
Meakin  Street,  and  hauled  them  in,  professing 
to  be  much  gratified  at  their  punctuality,  and 
charging  them  never  to  fall  away  from  the 
habit.  The  two  Jagos,  with  dubious  grins,  sub- 
mitted as  they  must,  and  were  in  a  little  while 
surprised  to  find  others  arriving,  friends  and 
acquaintances  never  suspected  of  church-going. 
The  fact  was,  that  Father  Sturt,  by  dint  of  long 
effort,  had  so  often  brought  so  many  to  his 
stable-church,  as  he  had  now  brought  Josh  and 
Kiddo,  that  the  terrors  and  embarrassments  of 
the     place    had     worn    off,    and    many,    finding 

nothing   more   attractive   elsewhere,   would    make 

170 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  171 

occasional  attendances  of  their  own  motion.  Wet 
Sundays,  particularly,  inclined  them  to  church : 
where  there  might  be  a  fire,  where  at  least  there 
was  a  clean  room,  with  pictures  on  the  wall, 
where  there  were  often  flowers,  where  there  was 
always  music,  and  where  Father  Sturt  made  an 
address  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  which  nobody 
ever  suspected  of  being  a  sermon  ;  an  address 
which  one  might  doze  over  or  listen  to,  as  one 
might  be  disposed  ;  but  which  most  listened  to, 
more  or  less,  partly  because  of  an  uneasy  feeling 
that  Father  Sturt  would  know  if  they  did  not, 
and  partly  because  it  was  very  easy  to  under- 
stand, was  not  oppressively  minatory,  was  spoken 
with  an  intimate  knowledge  of  themselves,  and 
was,  indeed,  something  of  a  refreshing  novelty, 
being  the  simple  talk  of  a  gentleman. 

Josh  Perrott  and  Kiddo  Cook  were  not  al- 
together sorry  they  had  come.  It  was  a  rest. 
Stable  though  it  had  been,  they  had  never  sat 
in  so  pleasant  a  room  before.  There  was  nothing 
to  do,  no  constant  watch  to  be  kept,  no  police 
to  avoid,  and  their  wits  had  a  holiday.  They 
forgot  things.     Their  courage  never  rose  so  high 


172  A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO 

as  to  build  the  thought;  but  in  truth  pipes 
would  have  made  them  happy. 

The  address  being  done,  Father  Sturt  an- 
nounced the  purchase  of  the  site  for  the  new 
church,  and  briefly  described  his  scheme.  He 
would  give  tenants  good  notice,  he  said,  before 
the  houses  were  destroyed.  Meantime,  they  must 
pay  rent ;  though  most  of  the  amounts  would  be 
reduced. 

And  after  the  benediction,  Father  Sturt,  from 
his  window  over  the  closed  shop,  saw  Josh 
Perrott  and  Kiddo  Cook  guffawing  and  elbowing 
one  another  up  Luck  Row.  Each  was  accusing 
the  other  of  having  tried  to  sing. 


XVII 

THERE  was  much  talk  of  Father  Sturt's 
announcement.  Many  held  it  a  shame 
that  so  much  money,  destined  for  the  benefit  of 
the  Jago,  should  be  spent  in  bricks  and  mortar, 
instead  of  being  distributed  among  themselves. 
They  fell  to  calculating  the  price  of  the  land 
and  houses,  and  to  working  it  out  laboriously 
in  the  denomination  of  pots  and  gallons.  More: 
it  was  felt  to  be  a  grave  social  danger  that 
Jago  Court  should  be  extinguished.  What 
would  become  of  the  Jago  without  Jago  Court? 
Where  would  Sunday  morning  be  spent? 
Where  would  the  fights  come  off,  and  where 
was  so  convenient  a  place  for  pitch  and  toss? 
But  mainly  they  feared  the  police.  Jago  Court 
was  an  unfailing  sanctuary,  a  city  of  refuge  ever 
ready,  ever  secure.     There  were  times  when  two 

173 


174  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

or  three  of  the  police,  hot  in  the  chase,  would 
burst  into  the  Jago  at  the  heels  of  a  flying  mar- 
auder. Then  the  runaway  would  make  straight 
for  the  archway,  and,  once  he  was  in  Jago  Court, 
danger  was  over.  For  he  had  only  to  run  into 
one  of  the  ever-open  doors  at  right  or  left,  and 
out  into  back-yards  and  other  houses ;  or,  better, 
to  scramble  over  the  low  fence  opposite,  through 
the  back  door  before  him,  and  so  into  New  Jago 
Street.  Beyond  the  archway  the  police  could  not 
venture,  except  in  large  companies.  A  young 
constable  who  tried  it  once,  getting  ahead  of 
two  companions  in  his  ardour,  was  laid  low  as 
he  emerged  from  the  passage,  by  a  fire-grate 
adroitly  let  drop  from  an  upper  window. 

The  blotting  out  of  such  a  godsend  of  a  place 
as  this  would  be  a  calamity.  The  Jago  would 
never  be  the  same  again.  As  it  was,  the  Old 
Jago  was  a  very  convenient,  comfortable  sort  of 
place,  they  argued.  They  could  not  imagine 
themselves  living  anywhere  else.  But  assuredly 
it  would  be  the  Jago  no  longer  without  Jago 
Court.  And  this  thing  was  to  be  done,  too, 
with     money    got     together     for    their     benefit! 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  175 

The  sole  explanation  the  Jago  could  supply 
was  the  one  that  at  last,  with  arithmetical  varia- 
tions, prevailed.  The  landlords  were  to  be  paid 
a  sum  (varying  in  Jago  estimation  from  a  hundred 
pounds  to  a  hundred  thousand)  for  the  houses 
and  the  ground,  and  of  this  they  were  secretly 
to  return  to  Father  Sturt  a  certain  share  (gener- 
ally agreed  on  as  half),  as  his  private  fee  for  bring- 
ing about  so  desirable  a  transaction.  Looked  at 
from  all  points,  this  appeared  to  be  the  most 
plausible  explanation  :  for  no  other  could  reason- 
ably account  for  Father  Sturt's  activity.  No 
wonder  he  could  afford  to  reduce  some  of  the 
rents !  Was  he  not  already  receiving  princely 
wages  (variously  supposed  to  be  something  from 
ten  pounds  to  thirty  pounds  a  week)  from  the 
Government,  for  preaching  every  Sunday? 

Still  the  rents  were  to  be  reduced  :  that  was 
the  immediate  consideration,  and  nothing  but 
an  immediate  consideration  carried  weight  in 
the  Jago,  where  a  shilling  to-day  was  to  be 
preferred  to  a  constant  income  beginning  in  a 
month's  time.  The  first  effect  of  the  announce- 
ment  was   a   rush   of  applications   for   rooms    in 


176  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

the  doomed  houses,  each  applicant  demanding 
to  be  accommodated  by  the  eviction  of  some- 
body already  established,  but  now  disinterestedly 
discovered  to  be  a  bad  tenant.  They  were  all 
disappointed,  but  the  residents  had  better  luck 
than  they  had  hoped.  For  the  unexpected 
happened,  and  the  money  for  a  part  of  the 
new  buildings  was  suddenly  guaranteed.  Where- 
fore Father  Sturt,  knowing  that  many  would 
be  hard  put  to  it  to  find  shelter  when  the 
houses  came  down,  and  guessing  that  rents 
would  rise  with  the  demand,  determined  to  ask 
none  for  the  little  while  the  tenements  endured. 
Scarce  had  he  made  his  decision  known  ere  he 
regretted  it,  popular  as  it  was.  For  he  re- 
flected that  the  money  saved  would  merely  melt, 
and  that  at  the  inevitable  turning  out,  not  a  soul 
would  be  the  better  off  for  the  relief,  but,  indeed, 
might  find  it  harder  than  ever  to  pay  rent 
after  the  temporary  easement.  It  would  have 
been  better  rigidly  to  exact  the  rent,  and  return 
it  in  lump  to  each  tenant  as  he  left.  The 
sum  would  have  been  an  inducement  to  leave 
peaceably — a    matter    in    which   trouble   was    to 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  177 

be  expected.  But  then,  what  did  any  windfall 
of  shillings  bring  in  the  Jago?  What  but  a 
drunk?  This  was  one  of  Father  Sturt's  thou- 
sand perplexities,  and  he  could  but  hope  that, 
perhaps,  he  had  done  right  after  all. 

The  old  buildings  were  sold,  as  they  stood,  to 
the  house-wreckers,  and  on  the  house-wreckers 
devolved  the  work  of  getting  the  lodgers  out. 
For  weeks  the  day  was  deferred,  but  it  drew 
very  near  at  last,  and  a  tall  hoarding  was  put 
up.  Next  morning  it  had  vanished;  but  there 
was  a  loud  crackling  where  the  Jagos  boiled 
their  pots  ;  Dicky  Perrott  and  Tommy  Rann 
had  a  bonfire  in  Edge  Lane ;  and  Jerry  Gullen's 
canary  sweated  abroad  before  a  heavy  load  of 
cheap  firewood. 

Then  Josh  Perrott  and  Billy  Leary,  his  old 
enemy,  were  appointed  joint  guardians  of  the 
new  hoarding,  each  to  get  half-a-crown  on  every 
morning  when  the  fence  was  found  intact.  And 
in  the  end  there  came  eviction  day,  and  once 
more  the  police  held  the  Jago  in  force,  escorting 
gangs  of  men  with  tumbrils. 

As    for    the    Perrotts,   they    could   easily    find 


178  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

another  room,  at  the  high  rent  always  charged 
for  the  privilege  of  residence  in  the  Jago.  To 
have  remained  in  one  room  four  or  five  years, 
and  to  have  paid  rent  with  indifferent  good 
regularity  was  a  feat  sufficiently  rare  to  be 
notorious,  and  to  cause  way  to  be  made  for 
them  wherever  a  room  was  falling  vacant,  or 
could  be  emptied.  They  went  no  farther  than 
across  the  way,  to  a  room  wherein  a  widow  had 
died  over  her  sack-making  two  days  before,  and 
had  sat  on  the  floor  with  her  head  between  her 
knees  for  hours,  while  her  children,  not  under- 
standing, cried  that  they  were  hungry.  These 
children  were  now  gone  to  the  workhouse:  more 
fortunate  than  the  many  they  left  behind.  And 
the  room  was  a  very  fair  one,  ten  feet  square 
or  so. 

The  rest  of  the  tenants  thought  not  at  all  of 
new  quarters,  and  did  nothing  to  find  them, 
till  they  found  themselves  and  their  belongings 
roofless  in  Old  Jago  Street.  Then  with  one 
accord  they  demanded  lodgings  of  the  vicar. 
Most  of  them  had  never  inhabited  any  rooms 
so    long   as   they   had    these    which    they    must 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  179 

now  leave — having  been  ejected  again  and  again 
because  of  unpaid  rent.  Nevertheless,  they  clam- 
oured for  redress  as  they  might  have  clamoured 
had  they  never  changed  dwellings  in  their  lives. 

Nobody  resisted  the  police;  for  there  were  too 
many  of  them.  Moreover,  Father  Sturt  was  there, 
and  few  had  hardihood  for  any  but  their  best 
behaviour  in  his  presence.  Still,  there  were 
disputes  among  the  Jagos  themselves,  that  some- 
times came  very  near  to  fights.  Ginger  Stagg's 
missis  professed  to  recognise  a  long-lost  property 
in  a  tin  kettle  brought  into  the  outer  air  among 
the  belongings  of  Mrs  Walsh.  The  miscellaneous 
rags  and  sticks  that  were  Cocko  Harnwell's  house- 
hold goods  got  mingled  in  the  roadway  with  those 
appertaining  to  the  Fishers  ;  and  their  assortment 
without  a  turn  of  family  combat  was  a  task 
which  tried  the  vicar's  influence  to  the  utmost. 
Mrs  Rafferty,  too,  was  suspected  of  undue  pride 
in  a  cranky  deal  wash-stand,  and  thereby  of  a 
disposition  to  sneer  at  the  humbler  turn-out  of 
the  Regans  from  the  next  floor :  giving  occasion 
for  a  shrill  and  animated  row. 

The    weather    was   dry,    fortunately,    and    the 


i8o  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

evicted  squatted  in  the  roadway,  by  their  heaps, 
or  on  them,  squabbling  and  lamenting.  Ginger 
Stagg,  having  covered  certain  crockery  with 
the  old  family  mattress,  forgetfully  sat  on  it,  and 
came  upon  Father  Sturt  with  an  indignant  de- 
mand for  compensation. 

Father  Sturt's  efforts  to  stimulate  a  search  for 
new  lodgings  met  with  small  success  at  first.  It 
was  felt  that,  no  doubt,  there  were  lodgings  to  be 
had,  but  they  would  be  open  to  the  fatal  objection 
of  costing  something ;  and  the  Jago  temperament 
could  neither  endure  nor  understand  payment  for 
what  had  once  been  given  for  nothing.  Father 
Sturt,  the  Jagos  argued,  had  given  them  free 
quarters  for  so  long.  Then  why  should  he  stop 
now  ?  If  they  cleared  out  in  order  to  make  room 
for  his  new  church,  in  common  fairness  he  should 
find  them  similar  lodging  on  the  same  terms.  So 
they  sat  and  waited  for  him  to  do  it. 

At  length  the  vicar  set  to  work  with  them  in 
good  earnest,  carried  away  with  him  a  family  or 
two  at  a  time,  and  inducted  them  to  rooms  of  his 
own  finding.  And  hereat  others,  learning  that 
in  these  cases  rent  in   advance  was  exacted,  be- 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  i8i 

stirred  themselves :  reflecting  that  if  rent  must  be 
paid  they  might  as  well  choose  their  own  rooms 
as  take  those  that  Father  Sturt  might  find.  Of 
course  the  thing  was  not  done  without  payments 
from  the  vicar's  pocket.  Some  were  wholly 
destitute ;  others  could  not  muster  enough  to  pay 
that  advance  of  rent  which  alone  could  open 
a  Jago  tenancy.  Distinguishing  the  genuine  im- 
pecuniosity  from  the  merely  professed,  with  the 
insight  that  was  now  a  sixth  sense  with  him, 
Father  Sturt  helped  sparingly  and  in  secret ;  for 
a  precedent  of  almsgiving  was  an  evil  thing  in 
the  Jago,  confirming  the  shiftlessness  which  was 
already  a  piece  of  Jago  nature,  and  setting  up 
long  affliction  for  the  almsgiver.  Enough  of  such 
precedents  existed ;  and  the  inevitable  additions 
thereto  were  a  work  of  anxious  responsibility  and 
jealous  care. 

So  the  bivouac  in  Old  Jago  Street  melted 
away.  For  one  thing,  there  were  those  among 
the  dispossessed  who  would  not  waste  time  in 
unproductive  inactivity  just  then ;  for  war  had 
arisen  with  Dove  Lane,  and  spoils  were  going. 
Dove   Lane  was   no  very  reputable  place,  but  it 


i82  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

was  not  like  the  Jago.  In  the  phrase  of  the 
district,  the  Dove  Laners  were  pretty  thick,  but 
the  Jagos  were  thick  as  glue.  There  were  many 
market-porters  among  the  Dove  Laners,  and  at 
this,  their  prosperous  season,  they  and  their  friends 
resorted  to  a  shop  in  Meakin  Street,  kept  by  an 
*ikey'  tailor,  there  to  buy  the  original  out-and-out 
downy  benjamins,  or  the  celebrated  bang-up  kick- 
sies,  cut  saucy,  with  artful  buttons  and  a  double 
fakement  down  the  sides.  And  hereabout  they 
were  apt  to  be  set  upon  by  Jagos ;  overthrown 
by  superior  numbers ;  bashed  ;  and  cleaned  out. 
Or,  if  the  purchases  had  been  made,  they  were 
flimped  of  their  kicksies,  benjies  or  daisies,  as  the 
case  might  be.  So  that  a  fight  with  Dove  Lane 
might  be  an  affair  of  some  occasional  profit ;  and 
it  became  no  loyal  Jago  to  idle  in  the  strong- 
hold. 

Father  Sturt's  task  was  nearly  over,  when, 
returning  to  Old  Jago  Street,  he  saw  Dicky 
Perrott  sitting  by  a  still-remaining  heap — a  heap 
small  and  poor  even  among  those  others.  The 
Perrotts  had  been  decorously  settled  in  their  new 
home  since  early  morning ;  but  here  was  Dicky, 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  183 

guarding  a  heap  with  a  baby  on  it,  and  absorbed 
in  the  weaving  of  rush  bags. 

*  That's  right,  Dicky  my  boy,'  said  Father  Sturt 
in  the  approving  voice  that  a  Jago  would  do 
almost  anything — except  turn  honest — to  hear. 
And  Dicky,  startled,  looked  up,  flushed  apd 
happy,  over  his  shoulder. 

'  Rush  bags,  eh  ? '  the  vicar  went  on,  stooping 
and  handing  Dicky  another  rush  from  the  heap. 
•And  whose  are  they?' 

The  bags,  the  rushes,  the  heap,  and  the  baby 
belonged  to  Mrs  Bates,  the  w^idow,  who  was  now 
in  search  of  a  new  room.  Dicky  had  often 
watched  the  weaving  of  fishmongers'  frails,  and, 
since  it  was  work  in  which  he  had  had  no 
opportunity  of  indulging,  it  naturally  struck 
him  as  a  fascinating  pastime.  So  that  he  was 
delighted  by  the  chance  which  he  had  taken, 
and  Mrs  Bates,  for  her  part,  was  not  sorry  to 
find  somebody  to  mind  her  property.  More- 
over, by  hard  work  and  the  skill  begot  of  much 
practice,  she  was  able  to  earn  a  sum  of  some 
three  farthings  an  hour  at  the  rush  bags :  a  profit 
which   her  cupidity    made  her   reluctant   to  lose, 


i84  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

for  even  half  an  hour.  And  thus  to  have 
Dicky  carry  on  the  business — and  in  his  en- 
thusiasm he  did  it  very  well — was  a  further 
consideration. 

Father  Sturt  chatted  with  Dicky  till  the  boy 
could  scarce  plait  for  very  pride.  Would 
not  Dicky  like  to  work  regularly  every  day, 
asked  Father  Sturt,  and  earn  wages?  Dicky 
could  see  no  graceful  answer  but  the  affirma- 
tive; and  in  sober  earnest  he  thought  he  would. 
Father  Sturt  took  hold  of  Dicky's  vanity.  Was 
he  not  capable  of  something  better  than  other 
Jago  boys?  Why  should  he  not  earn  regular 
wages,  and  live  comfortably,  well  fed  and  clothed, 
with  no  fear  of  the  police,  and  no  shame  for 
what  he  did  ?  He  might  do  it,  when  others 
could  not.  They  were  not  clever  enough. 
They  called  themselves  'clever'  and  'wide;* 
'  but,'  said  Father  Sturt,  *  is  there  one  of  them 
that  can  deceive  me?'  And  Dicky  knew 
there  was  not  one.  Most  did  no  work,  the 
vicar's  argument  went  on,  because  they  had 
neither  the  pluck  to  try  nor  the  intelligence  to 
accomplish.     Else  why  did  they  live  the  wretched 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  185 

Jago  life  instead  of  take  the  pleasanter  time 
of  the  decent  labourer? 

Dicky,  already  zealous  at  work  as  exampled 
in  rush  bag  -  making,  listened  with  wistful 
pride.  Yes,  if  he  could,  he  would  work  and 
take  his  place  over  the  envious  heads  of  his 
Jago  friends.  But  how?  Nobody  would  em- 
ploy a  boy  living  in  the  Jago.  That  was 
notorious.  The  address  was  a  topsy-turvy  testi- 
monial for  miles  round. 

All  the  same  when  Mrs  Bates  at  last  took 
away  her  belongings,  Dicky  ran  off  in  de- 
lighted amaze  to  tell  his  mother  and  Em  that 
he  was  going  to  tea  at  Father  Sturt's  rooms. 

And  the  wreckers  tore  down  the  foul  old 
houses,  laying  bare  the  secret  dens  of  a 
century  of  infamy ;  lifting  out  the  wide  sashes 
of  the  old  'weavers'  windows' — the  one  good 
feature  in  the  structures  ;  letting  light  and  air  at 
last  into  the  subterraneous  basements  where  men 
and  women  had  swarmed,  and  bred,  and  died, 
like  wolves  in  their  lairs ;  and  emerging  from 
clouds  of  choking  dust,  each  man  a  colony 
of   vermin.     But    there    were    rooms    which    the 


i86  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

wreckers — no  jack-a-dandies  neither — flatly  re- 
fused to  enter ;  and  nothing  would  make  them 
but  much  coaxing,  the  promise  of  extra  pay, 
and  the  certainty  of  much  immediate  beer. 


XVI  I  1 

MR  GRINDER  kept  a  shop  in  the  Beth- 
nal  Green  Road.  It  was  announced  in 
brilliant  lettering  as  an  'oil,  colour  and  Italian 
warehouse/  and  there,  in  addition  to  the  oil 
and  the  colour,  and  whatever  of  Italian  there 
might  have  been,  he  sold  pots,  pans,  kettles, 
brooms,  shovels,  mops,  lamps,  nails,  and  treacle. 
It  was  a  shop  ever  too  tight  for  its  stock, 
which  burst  forth  at  every  available  opening, 
and  heaped  so  high  on  the  paving  that 
the  window  was  half  buried  in  a  bank  of  shin- 
ing tin.  Father  Sturt  was  one  of  the  best  cus- 
tomers: the  oil,  candles  and  utensils  needed  for 
church  and  club  all  coming  from  Mr  Grinder's. 
Mr  Grinder  was  losing  his  shop-boy,  who  had 
found  a  better  situation;  and  Father  Sturt 
determined    that,  could   but   the  oilman   be  pcr- 

187 


i88  A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO 

suaded,  Dicky  Perrott  should  be  the  new  boy. 
Mr  Grinder  was  persuaded.  Chiefly  perhaps, 
because  the  vicar  undertook  to  make  good  the 
loss,  should  the  experiment  end  in  theft ;  partly 
because  it  was  policy  to  oblige  a  good  customer ; 
and  partly,  indeed,  because  Mr  Grinder  was  will- 
ing to  give  such  a  boy  a  chance  in  life,  for  he 
was  no  bad  fellow,  as  oil-and-colourmen  go,  and 
had  been  an  errand  boy  himself. 

So  that  there  came  a  Monday  morning  when 
Dicky,  his  clothes  as  well  mended  as  might  be 
(for  Hannah  Perrott,  no  more  than  another  Jago, 
could  disobey  Father  Sturt),  and  a  cut-down  apron 
of  his  mother's  tied  before  him,  stood  by  Mr 
Grinder's  bank  of  pots  and  kettles,  in  an  eager 
agony  to  sell  something,  and  near  blind  with  the 
pride  of  the  thing.  He  had  been  waiting  at  the 
shop-door  long  ere  Mr  Grinder  was  out  of  bed  ; 
and  now,  set  to  guard  the  outside  stock — a  duty 
not  to  be  neglected  in  that  neighbourhood — he 
brushed  a  tin  pot  here  and  there  with  his  sleeve, 
and  longed  for  some  Jago  friend  to  pass  and  view 
him  in  his  new  greatness.  The  goods  he  watched 
over  were  an  unfailing  source  of  interest ;  and  he 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  189 

learned  by  much  repetition  the  prices  of  all  the 
saucepans,  painted  in  blue  distemper  on  the  tin, 
and  ranging  from  eightpence-halfpenny,  on  the 
big  pots  in  the  bottom  row,  to  three-halfpence  on 
the  very  little  ones  at  the  top.  And  there  were 
long  ranks  of  little  paraffin  lamps  at  a  penny — 
the  sort  that  had  set  fire  to  a  garret  in  Half  Jago 
Street  a  month  since,  and  burnt  old  Mother  Leary 
to  a  greasy  cinder.  With  a  smaller  array  of  a 
superior  quality  at  fourpence-halfpenny — ^just  like 
the  one  that  had  burst  at  Jerry  Gullen's,  and  burnt 
the  bed.  While  over  his  head  swung  doormats 
at  one  -  and  -  eightpence,  with  penny  mousetraps 
dangling  from  their  corners. 

When  he  grew  more  accustomed  to  his  circum- 
stances, he  bethought  him  to  collect  a  little  dirt, 
and  rub  it  down  the  front  of  his  apron,  to  give 
himself  a  well-worked  and  business-like  appear- 
ance ;  and  he  greatly  impeded  women  who  looked 
at  the  saucepans  and  the  mousetraps,  ere  they 
entered  the  shop,  by  his  anxiety  to  cut  them  off 
from  Mr  Grinder  and  serve  them  himself.  He  re- 
membered the  boy  at  the  toy-shop  in  Bishopsgate 
Street,  years  ago,  who   had  chased  him  through 


igo  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Spltalfields ;  and  he  wished  that  some  lurching 
youngster  would  snatch  a  mousetrap,  that  he 
might  make  a  chase  himself. 

At  Mr  Grinder's  every  call  Dicky  was  prompt 
and  willing;  for  every  new  duty  was  a  fresh 
delight,  and  the  whole  day  a  prolonged  game  of 
real  shopkeeping.  And  at  his  tea — he  was  to  have 
tea  each  day  in  addition  to  three  and  sixpence 
every  Saturday — he  took  scarce  five  minutes. 
There  was  a  trolley — ^just  such  a  thing  as  porters 
used  at  railway  stations,  but  smaller — which  was 
his  own  particular  implement,  his  own  to  pack 
parcels  on  for  delivery  to  such  few  customers  as 
did  not  carry  away  their  own  purchases:  and  to 
acquire  the  dexterous  management  of  this  trolley 
was  a  pure  joy.  He  bolted  his  tea  to  start  the 
sooner  on  a  trolley-journey  to  a  public-house 
two  hundred  yards  away. 

His  enthusiasm  for  work  as  an  amusement 
cooled  in  a  day  or  two,  but  all  his  pride  in  it 
remained.  The  fight  with  Dove  Lane  waxed 
amain,  but  Dicky  would  not  be  tempted  into 
more  than  a  distant  interest  in  it.  In  his  day- 
dreams he  saw  himself  a  tradesman,  with  a  shop 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  191 

of  his  own  and  the  name  '  R.  Perrott,'  with  a 
gold  flourish,  over  the  door.  He  would  employ 
a  boy  himself  then  ;  and  there  would  be  a  parlour, 
with  stuff-bottomed  chairs  and  a  shade  of  flowers, 
and  Em  grown  up  and  playing  on  the  piano. 
Truly  Father  Sturt  was  right:  the  hooks  were 
fools,  and  the  straight  game  was  the  better. 

Bobby  Roper,  the  hunchback,  went  past  the 
shop  once,  and  saw  him.  Dicky,  minding  his 
new  dignity,  ignored  his  enemy,  and  for  the 
first  time  for  a  year  and  more,  allowed  him 
to  pass  without  either  taunt  or  blow.  The  other, 
astonished  at  Dicky's  new  occupation,  came 
back  and  back  again,  staring,  from  a  safe  dis- 
tance, at  Dicky  and  the  shop.  Dicky,  on  his 
part,  took  no  more  notice  than  to  assume  an 
ostentatious  vigilance:  so  that  the  hunchback, 
baring  his  teeth  in  a  snigger  of  malice,  at 
last  turned  on  his  heel  and  rolled  off. 

Twice  Kiddo  Cook  passed,  but  made  no 
sign  of  recognition  beyond  a  wink  ;  and 
Dicky  felt  grateful  for  Kiddo's  obvious  fear 
of  compromising  him.  Once  old  Beveridge 
came    by,    striding     rapidly,    his     tatters    flying, 


192  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

and  the  legend  '  Hard  Up '  chalked  on  his  hat, 
as  was  his  manner  in  his  town  rambles. 
He  stopped  abruptly  at  sight  of  Dicky,  stooped, 
and  said  : — '  Dicky  Perrott  ?  Hum  —  hum — 
hey?'  Then  he  hurried  on,  doubtless  con- 
ceiving just  such  a  fear  as  Kiddo  Cook's. 
As  for  Tommy  Rann,  his  affections  were  alien- 
ated by  Dicky's  outset  refusal  to  secrete  treacle 
in  a  tin  mug  for  a  midnight  carouse ;  and  he 
did  not  show  himself.  So  matters  went  for 
near  a  week. 

But  Mr  Weech  missed  Dicky  sadly.  It  was 
rare  for  a  day  to  pass  without  a  visit  from 
Dicky,  and  Dicky  had  a  way  of  bringing  good 
things.  Mr  Weech  would  not  have  sold  Dicky's 
custom  for  ten  shillings  a  week.  So  that  when 
Mr  Weech  inquired,  and  found  that  Dicky 
was  at  work  in  an  oil-shop,  he  was  natur- 
ally annoyed.  Moreover,  if  Dicky  Perrott  got 
into  that  way  of  life,  he  would  have  no  fear 
for  himself,  and  might  get  talking  incon- 
veniently among  his  new  friends  about  the  busi- 
ness affairs  of  Mr  Aaron  Weech.  And  at  this 
reflection  that  philanthropist  grew  thoughtful. 


XIX 

DICKY  had  gone  on  an  errand,  and  Mr 
Grinder  was  at  the  shop  door,  when 
there  appeared  before  him  a  whiskered  and 
smirking  figure,  with  a  quick  glance  each  way 
along  the  street,  and  a  long  and  smiling  one  at 
the  oil-man's  necktie. 

*  Good  mornin',  Mr  Grinder,  good  mornin' 
sir.'  Mr  Weech  stroked  his  left  palm  with  his 
right  fist  and  nodded  pleasantly.  '  I'm  in  busi- 
ness meself,  over  in  Meakin  Street — name  of 
Weech:  p'r'aps  you  know  the  shop?  I — I 
jist  'opped  over  to  ask  ' — Grinder  led  the  way 
into  the  shop — 'to  ask  (so's  to  make  things 
quite  sure  y'know,  though  no  doubt  it's  all 
right)  to  ask  if  it's  correct  you're  awfferin' 
brass   roastln'-jacks   at   a  shillin'  each.' 

*  Brass  roastin'-jacks  at  a  shillin'  ? '  exclaimed 
Grinder,  shocked  at  the  notion.     '  Why,  no  ! ' 

N  193 


194  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Mr  Weech  appeared  mildly  surprised.  *  Nor 
yut  seven-poun'  jars  o'  jam  an'  pickles  at  six- 
pence ? '  he  pursued,  with  his  eye  on  those 
ranged  behind  the  counter. 

'No!' 

*  Nor  doormats  at  fourpence  ? ' 

'  Fourpence  ?     Cert'nly  not ! ' 

Mr  Weech's  face  fell  into  a  blank  perplex- 
ity. He  pawed  his  ear  with  a  doubtful  air, 
murmuring  absently : — *  Well  I'm  sure  'e  said 
fourpence :  an'  sixpence  for  pickles,  an'  bring 
'em  round  after  the  shop  was  shut.  But  there,' 
he  added,  more  briskly,  '  there's  no  'arm  done, 
an'  no  doubt  it's  a  mistake.'  He  turned  as 
though  to  leave,  but  Grinder  restrained  him. 

'  But  look  'ere,'  he  said,  *  I  want  to  know  about 
this.  Wotjer  mean  ?  '(9<?  was  goin'  to  bring 
round  pickles  after  the  shop  was  shut?  ^Oo  said 
fourpence  for  doormats  ? ' 

'  Oh,  I  expect  it's  jest  a  little  mistake,  that's  all,' 
answered  Weech,  making  another  motion  toward 
the  door;  'an'  I  don't  want  to  git  nobody  into 
trouble.' 

'Trouble?     Nice  trouble  I'd  be  in  if  I  sold  brass 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  195 

smoke-jacks  for  a  bob  !  There's  somethink  'ere  as 
I  ought  to  know  about.     Tell  me  about  it  straight.' 

Weech  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  oil-man's  top 
waistcoat  button  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then 
said : — '  Yus,  p'raps  I  better.  I  can  feel  for 
you,  Mr  Grinder,  'avin'  a  feclin'  'art,  an'  bein'  in 
business  meself.     Where's  your  boy  ? ' 

'  Gawn  out.' 

'  Comin'  back  soon  ?  * 

*  Not  yut.     Come  in  the  back-parlour.' 

There  Mr  Wecch,  with  ingenuous  reluctance,  as- 
sured Mr  Grinder  that  Dicky  Perrott  had  impo.*-- 
tuned  him  to  buy  the  goods  in  question  at  the 
prices  he  had  mentioned,  together  with  others — 
readily  named  now  that  the  oil-man  swallowed  so 
freely  —  and  that  they  were  to  be  delivered  and 
paid  for  at  night  when  Dicky  left  work.  But 
perhaps,  Mr  Weech  concluded,  parading  an  obsti- 
nate belief  in  human  nature,  perhaps  the  boy,  be- 
ing new  to  the  business,  had  mistaken  the  prices, 
and  was  merely  doing  his  best  to  push  his  master's 
trade. 

*  No  fear  o'  that,'  said  Grinder,  shaking  his  head 
gloomily.     *  Not  the  least  fear  o'  that     'E  knows 


196  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

the  cheapest  doormats  I  got's  one  an'  six — I  'eard 
him  tell  customers  so  outside  a  dozen  times ;  an' 
anyone  can  see  the  smoke-jacks  is  ticketed  five 
an  'nine ' — as  Mr  Weech  had  seen,  when  he  spoke 
of  them.  *  I  thought  that  boy  was  too  eager  an' 
willin'  to  be  quite  genavin/  Dicky's  master  went 
on.  "E  ain't  'ad  me  yut,  that's  one  comfort:  if 
anythin'  'ud  bin  gawn  I'd  'a'  missed  it.  But  out  'e 
goes  as  soon  as  'e  comes  back :  you  can  take  yer 
davy  o'  that ! ' 

'  Ah,'  replied  Mr  Weech,  '  it's  fearful  the  wicked- 
ness there  is  about,  ain't  it  ?  It's  enough  to  break 
yer  'art.  Sich  a  neighb'r'ood  too !  Wy,  if  it  was 
known  as  I'd  give  you  this  'ere  little  friendly  in- 
formation, bein'  in  business  meself  an'  knowin'  wot 
it  is,  my  life  wouldn't  be  safe  a  hower.  It  wouldn't, 
Mr  Grinder.' 

'Wouldn't  it?'  said  Mr  Grinder.  'You  mean 
them  in  the  Jago,  I  s'pose.' 

*  Yus.  They're  a  awful  lot,  Mr  Grinder — you've 
no  idear.  The  father  o'  this  'ere  boy  as  I've  warned 
you  aginst,  'e's  in  with  a  desprit  gang,  an'  they'd 
murder  me  if  they  thought  I'fl  come  an'  told  you 
honest,  w'en   you   might  'a'  bin  robbed,  as  is  my 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  197 

nature  to.  They  would  indeed.  So  o'  course  you 
won't  say  wot  I  toldjer,  nor  '00  give  you  this  'ere 
honourable  friendly  warnin' — not  to  nobody.' 

*  That's  awright,'  answered  the  simple  Grinder, 
'  I  won't  let  on.  But  out  'e  goes,  promp'.  I'm 
obliged  to  ye,  Mr  Weech.     Er — r  wot'll  ye  take?' 

Weech  put  away  the  suggestion  with  a  virtuous 
palm : — *  Nothink  at  all,  Mr  Grinder,  thanks  all  the 
same.  I  never  touch  nothink  ;  an'  I'm  glad  to — 
to  do  any  moral  job,  so  to  speak,  as  comes  in  my 
way.  "  Scatter  seeds  o'  kindness "  you  know,  as 
the  —  the  Psalm  says,  Mr  Grinder.  Your  boy 
ain't  back,  is  'e  ? ' 

And  after  peering  cautiously,  Mr  Weech  went 
his  way. 


XX 

DICKY  completed  his  round,  and  pushed 
his  unladen  trolley  Grinder-ward  with  a 
fuller  sense  of  responsibility  than  ever.  For  he 
carried  money.  A  publican  had  paid  him 
four  and  threepence,  and  he  had  taken  two 
and  tenpence  elsewhere.  He  had  left  his  proud 
signature,  pencilled  large  and  black,  on  two 
receipts,  and  he  stopped  in  a  dozen  doorways 
to  count  the  money  over  again,  and  make  sure 
that  all  was  right.  Between  the  halts  he  added 
four  and  three  to  two  and  ten  mentally,  and 
proved  his  sum  correct  by  subtracting  each  in 
turn  from  seven  and  a  penny.  And  at  last 
he  stood  his  trolley  on  end  by  the  bank  of 
saucepans,  and  entered  the  shop. 

'  Walker's    is   paid,   an'    Wilkins    is   paid,*   said 
Dicky,  putting  down  the  money.     '  Two  an'  ten 

an'  four  an'  three's  seven  an'  a  penny.' 

19S 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  199 

Mr  Grinder  looked  steadily  and  sourly  at  Dicky, 
and  counted.  He  pitched  the  odd  penny  into  the 
till  and  shook  the  rest  of  the  coins  in  his  closed 
hand,  still  staring  moodily  in  the  boy's  face. 
'  It's  three  an'  six  a  week  you  come  'ere  at,' 
he  said. 

'  Yus  sir,'  Dicky  replied,  since  Grinder  seemed 
to  expect  an  answer.  The  supreme  moment 
when  he  should  take  his  first  wages  had  been 
the  week's  beacon  to  him,  reddening  and 
brightening  as  Saturday  night  grew  nearer. 

'  Three  an'  six  a  week  an'  yer  tea.' 

Dicky  wondered. 

'So  as  if  I  found  out  anythink  about — say 
Brass  Roastin'-jacks  for  instance — I  could  give 
ye  yer  three  an'  six  an'  start  y'  auf,  unless  I 
did  somethin'  wuss.' 

Dicky  was  all  incomprehension ;  but  something 
made  him  feel  a  little  sick. 

'  But  s'posin'  I  didn't  find  out  anythink  about 
— say  Seven-pun'  Jars  o'  Pickles — an'  s'pose 
I  wasn't  disposed  to  suspect  anythink  in  regard 
to — say  Doormats ;  then  I  could  either  give  ye 
a   week  s   notice  or   pay  y'   a   week's   money  an' 


200  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

clear  y'  out  on  the  spot,  without  no  more 
trouble.' 

Mr  Grinder  paused,  and  still  looked  at  Dicky 
with  calm  dislike.  Then  he  added,  as  though 
in  answer  to  himself,  *Yus.'  .  .  . 

He  dropped  the  money  slowly  from  his  right 
hand  to  his  left.  Dicky's  mouth  was  dry,  and 
the  drawers  and  pickle-jars  swam  before  him 
at  each  side  of  Grinder's  head.  What  did  it 
mean? 

'  'Ere  y'  are,'  cried  Mr  Grinder,  with  sudden 
energy,  thrusting  his  hand  across  the  counter. 
'  Two  three-and-sixes  is  seven  shillin's,  an'  you 
can  git  yer  tea  at  'ome  with  yer  dirty  little  sister. 
Git  out  o'  my  shop ! ' 

Dicky's  hand  closed  mechanically  on  the  money, 
and  after  a  second's  pause,  he  found  broken  speech. 
*  W — w — wot  for,  sir  ? '  he  asked,  huskily.  *  I  ain't 
done  nothink ! ' 

'  No,  an'  you  sha'n't  do  nothink,  that's  more. 
Out  ye  go!  If  I  see  ye  near  the  place  agin 
I'll  'ave  ye  locked  up  ! ' 

Dicky  slunk  to  the  door.  He  felt  the  sobs 
coming,  but  he  turned  at  the  threshold  and  said 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  201 

with  tremulous  lips: — 'Woncher  gimme  a  chance, 
sir?     S'elp  me,  I  done  me  best.     I — ' 

Mr  Grinder  made  a  short  rush  from  the  back 
of  the  shop,  and  Dicky  gave  up  and  fled. 

It  was  all  over.  There  could  never  be  a  shop 
with  '  R.  Perrott '  painted  over  it,  now ;  there 
would  be  no  parlour  with  stuff-bottomed  chairs 
and  a  piano  for  Em  to  play.  He  was  cut  off 
from  the  trolley  for  ever.  Dicky  was  thirteen, 
and  at  that  age  the  children  of  the  Jago  were 
past  childish  tears;  but  tears  he  could  not 
smother,  even  till  he  might  find  a  hiding-place : 
they  burst  out  shamefully  in  the  open  street. 

He  took  dark  turnings,  and  hid  his  head  in 
doorways.  It  was  very  bitter.  At  last,  when 
the  sobs  grew  fewer,  he  remembered  the  money 
gripped  in  his  wet  fist.  It  was  a  consolation. 
Seven  shillings  was  a  vast  sum  in  Dicky's  eyes  ; 
until  that  day  he  had  never  handled  so  much 
in  his  life.  It  would  have  been  handsome  re- 
compense, he  thought,  for  any  trouble  in  the 
world  but  this.  He  must  take  it  home,  of 
course ;  it  might  avail  to  buy  sympathy  of  his 
father  and  mother.     But  then,  to  think  he  might 


202  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

have  had  as  much  every  fortnight  of  his  life, 
a  good  tea  every  day,  and  the  proud  responsi- 
bility, and  the  trolley !  At  this  his  lips  came 
awry  again,  his  eyes  sought  his  sleeve,  and  he 
turned  to  another  doorway. 

His  glance  fell  on  the  white  apron,  now  smudged 
and  greased  in  good  earnest.  It  made  him  feel 
worse ;  so  he  untied  it  and  stuffed  it  away  under 
his  jacket.  He  wondered  vaguely  what  had 
occurred  to  irritate  Mr  Grinder,  and  why  he 
talked  of  pickles  and  doormats;  but  the 
sorrow  of  it  all  afflicted  him  to  the  ex- 
tinction of  such  minor  speculation.  And  in 
this  misery  he  dragged  his  reluctant  feet  toward 
the  Old  J  ago. 


XXI 

HE  handed  his  father  the  seven  shilh'ngs, 
and  received  a  furious  belting  for  losing 
his  situation.  He  cried  quietly,  but  it  was  not 
because  of  the  strap.  All  he  feared  now  was  to 
meet  Father  Sturt.  He  had  rather  fifty  beltings 
than  Father  Sturt's  reproaches ;  and,  having  dis- 
graced himself  with  Mr  Grinder  in  some  mysteri- 
ous way  which  it  was  beyond  his  capacity  to 
understand,  what  but  reproaches  could  he  expect 
from  the  vicar  ?  The  whole  world  was  against 
him.  As  for  himself,  he  was  hopeless :  plainly 
he  must  have  some  incomprehensible  defect  of 
nature,  since  he  offended,  do  as  he  might,  and 
could  neither  understand  nor  redeem  his  fault. 
He  wondered  if  it  had  been  so  with  little  Neddy 
Wright,  who   had    found    the   world   too   ruthless 

for    him    at   ten ;     and   had    tied    a   brick    to   his 
203 


204  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

neck,  as  he  had  seen  done  with  needless  dogs, 
and  let  himself  timidly  down  into  the  canal  at 
Haggerstone  Bridge. 

So  he  shuffled  through  Jago  Row,  when  a  hand 
came  on  his  shoulder  and  a  hoarse  voice  said : — 
'Wot's  the  matter,  Dicky?' 

He  turned,  and  saw  the  mild,  coarse  face  of 
Pigeony  Poll,  the  jaw  whereof  was  labouring  on 
something  tough  and  sticky.  Poll  pulled  from 
her  pocket  a  glutinous  paper,  clinging  about  a 
cohesive  lump  of  broken  toffee — the  one  luxury 
of  her  moneyed  times.  "Ave  a  bit,'  she  said. 
'Wot's  the  matter?' 

But  Dicky  thrust  the  hand  away  and  fled,  for 
he  feared  another  burst  of  tears.  His  eyes  were 
bad  enough  as  it  was,  and  he  longed  to  hide 
himself  in  some  hole. 

He  turned  into  New  Jago  Street.  Hither  it  was 
that  Jerry  Gullen  had  betaken  himself  with  his 
family  and  the  Canary,  after  the  great  eviction. 
Dicky  slackened  his  pace,  loitered  at  Jerry's 
doorway,  and  presently  found  himself  in  the 
common  passage.  It  was  long  since  he  had 
had    a    private    interview    with    Jerry    Gullen's 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  205 

canary:  for,  indeed,  he  was  thirteen — he  was 
no  longer  a  child,  in  fact ! — and  it  was  not  well 
that  he  should  indulge  in  such  foolish  weakness. 
Nevertheless  he  went  as  far  as  the  back  door. 
There  stood  the  old  donkey,  mangy  and  infirm 
as  ever,  but  apparently  no  nearer  the  end.  The 
wood  of  the  fence  was  bitten  in  places,  but  it 
was  not  as  yet  gnawed  to  the  general  whiteness 
and  roundness  of  that  in  Canary's  old  abode. 
Canary,  indeed,  was  fortunate  to-day,  for  at  the 
sound  of  Dicky's  step  he  lifted  his  nose  from 
a  small  heap  of  straw,  dust,  and  mouldy  hay, 
swept  into  a  corner,  Dicky  stepped  into  the 
yard,  and  put  his  hand  on  Canary's  neck;  pre- 
sently he  glanced  guiltily  at  the  windows  above. 
Nobody  was  looking.  And  in  five  minutes 
Dicky,  aged  as  he  was,  had  told  Canary  his 
troubles,  while  new  tears  wetted  the  ragged 
crest  and  dropped  into  the  dusty  straw. 

Now  his  grief  lost  some  of  its  edge.  Ashamed 
as  he  was,  he  had  a  shapeless,  unapprehended 
notion  that  Canary  was  the  sole  creature  alive 
that  could  understand  and  feel  with  him.  And 
Canary  poked  his  nose  under  the  old  jacket  and 


2o6  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

sniffed  in  sympathy,  as  the  broken  lining 
tickled  him.  Dicky's  intellectuals  began  to 
arrange  themselves.  Plainly,  Mr  Weech's  phil- 
osophy was  right  after  all.  He  was  of  the  Jago, 
and  he  must  prey  on  the  outer  world,  as  all  the 
Jago  did  ;  not  stray  foolishly  off  the  regular  track 
in  chase  of  visions,  and  fall  headlong.  Father 
Sturt  was  a  creature  of  another  mould.  Who 
was  he,  Dicky  Perrott,  that  he  should  break  away 
from  the  Jago  habit,  and  strain  after  another 
nature?  What  could  come  of  it  but  defeat 
and  bitterness  ?  As  old  Beveridge  had  said, 
the  Jago  had  got  him.  Why  should  he  fight 
against  the  inevitable,  and  bruise  himself?  The 
ways  out  of  the  Jago  old  Beveridge  had  told 
him,  years  ago.  Gaol,  the  gallows  and  the 
High  Mob.  There  was  his  chance,  his  aspira- 
tion, his  goal:  the  High  Mob.  To  dream  of 
oil-shops  or  regular  wages  was  foolishness.  His 
bed  was  made  in  the  Jago,  and  he  must  lie 
on  it.  His  hope  in  life,  if  he  might  have  a 
hope  at  all,  was  to  be  of  the  High  Mob.  Spare 
nobody,  stop  at  nothing,  do  his  devilmost :  old 
Beveridge  had   said   that  years   ago.      The   task 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  207 

was  before  him,  and  he  must  not  balk  at  it.  As 
for  gaol  and  the  gallows,  well !  There  they  were, 
and  he  could  not  help  it;  ill  ways  out  of  the 
Jago,  both,  but  still — ways  out. 

He  rubbed  his  face  carefully  with  his  sleeve, 
put  away  his  foolish  ambitions,  and  went 
forth  with  a  brave  heart :  to  accomplish  his 
destiny  for  well  or  ill, — a  Jago  rat.  To  do 
his  devilmost.     But  to  avoid  Father  Sturt. 

Out  he  went  into  Shoreditch  High  Street, 
and  there  he  prowled  the  evening  away ;  there 
and  in  Norton  Folgate.  But  he  touched  for 
nothing  —  nothing  at  all.  He  feared  lest  his 
week's  honesty  had  damaged  his  training.  Even 
an  apple  on  a  stall  he  failed  at,  and  had  to 
run.  And  then  he  turned  into  Bethnal  Green 
Road. 

But  here  a  thought  checked  him  suddenly. 
What  of  Mr  Grinder?  He  had  threatened  to 
have  Dicky  locked  up  if  he  came  near  the 
shop  again.  But  a  child  of  the  Jago  knew  too 
much  to  be  frightened  by  such  a  threat  as  that. 
He  went  on.  He  felt  interested  to  see  how  his 
late    employer   was    getting    along   without   him, 


2o8  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

and  who  was  minding  the  goods  outside  the 
shop.  Probably  there  was  nobody:  and  this 
gave  Dicky  an  idea. 

He  had  forgotten  his  smudgy  apron,  folded 
and  tucked  away  in  the  lining  of  his  jacket. 
Now  he  pulled  it  out,  and  fastened  it  before 
him  once  more.  He  knew  Mr  Grinder's  habits 
in  the  shop,  and  if  he  could  seize  a  fitting 
opportunity  he  might  be  able,  attired  in  his 
apron,  to  pick  up  or  reach  down  any  article 
that  struck  his  fancy,  fearless  of  interference 
from  passers-by ;  for  he  would  seem  to  be 
still  shop-boy. 

With  that  he  hastened,  for  it  was  near  closing 
time  at  Grinder's.  He  took  the  opposite  side 
of  the  road,  the  better  to  observe  unseen  in 
the  darkness.  But  Mr  Grinder  had  already 
begun  to  carry  things  in  from  the  pavement. 
As  Dicky  looked  he  came  out  with  a  long  pole 
wherewith  he  unhooked  from  above  a  clattering 
cluster  of  pails  and  watering  pots,  and  a  bunch 
of  doormats.  The  doormats  he  let  fall  on  the 
flags,  while  he  carried  in  the  pots  and  pails. 
Dicky  knew  that  these  pots  and  pails  were  kept 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  209 

at  night  in  a  shed  behind  the  house ;  so  he 
scuttled  across  the  road,  opening  the  blade 
of  his  old  knife  as  he  ran.  He  cut  the 
string  that  held  the  mats  together,  selected  a 
thick  one,  rolled  it  under  his  arm,  and  edged 
off  into  the  shadow.  Then  he  ran  quietly 
across  to  the  nearest  turning. 

Presently  Mr  Grinder  came  out,  hooked  his 
finger  in  the  string  among  the  mats,  and  pulled 
up  nothing.  He  stooped,  and  saw  that  the 
string  was  cut.  He  looked  about  him  sus- 
piciously, flung  the  mats  over,  and  counted 
them.  Then  he  stood  erect;  stared  up  the 
street,  down  the  street,  and  across  the  road, 
with  his  mouth  open;  and  made  short  rushes 
left  and  right  into  the  gloom.  Then  he 
returned  to  the  mats  and  scratched  his  head. 
Finally,  he  gave  another  glance  about  the 
street,  picked  up  the  mats  in  his  arms  and 
carried  them  in,  counting  them  as  he  went. 
And,  the  mats  bestowed,  whenever  he  came  forth 
for  a  fresh  armful  of  saucepans,  he  stood  and 
gazed   doubtfully,  now  this  way,  now  that,  about 

the  Bethnal  Green  Road. 
o 


210  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Mr  Aaron  Weech  was  pushing  his  last 
shutter  into  its  place  when  'Clean  the  knives,' 
said  Dicky  Perrott,  in  perfunctory  repetition  of 
the  old  formula. 

Mr  Weech  seemed  taken  aback.  *Wot, 
that?'  he  asked,  doubtfully,  pointing  at  the 
doormat.  Then,  after  a  sharp  look  about  the 
almost  deserted  street,  he  ran  to  Jago  Row 
corner,  twenty  yards  away,  and  looked  down 
there.  Nobody  was  hiding,  and  he  came 
back.  He  led  the  way  into  the  shop,  and 
closed  the  door.  Then,  looking  keenly  in 
Dicky's  face,  he  suddenly  asked, — "Oo  toldjer 
to  bring  that  'ere?' 

*  Told  me  ? '  Dicky  answered  sullenly.  '  No- 
body told  me.     Don'cher  want  it?' 

"Ow  much  did  'e  tell  ye  t'  ask  for  it?' 

•Tell  me?   'Oo?' 

'  You  know.     'Ow  much  didjer  say  *e  said  ? ' 

Dicky  was  mystified.  'Dunno  wotcher  mean,' 
he  replied. 

Mr  Weech  suddenly  broke  into  a  loud  laugh, 
but  kept  his  keen  look  on  the  boy's  face  never- 
theless.    '  Ah,  it's  a  good  joke,  Dicky,  ain't  it  ? ' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  211 

he  said,  and  laughed  again.  'But  you  can't  'ave 
me,  ye  know !  Mr  Grinder's  a  old  friend  o' 
mine,  an'  I  know  'is  little  larks.  Wot  did  'e 
tell  ye  to  do  if  I  wouldn't  'ave  that  door- 
mat?' 

'  Tell  me  ? '  asked  Dicky,  plainly  more  mysti- 
fied than  ever.  '  Wy  'e  never  told  me  nothink. 
'E  gimme  the  sack  this  afternoon,  an'  chucked 
me  out.' 

'  Then  wotcher  got  yer  apron  on  now  for  ? ' 

'  Oh,'  said  Dicky,  looking  down  at  it,  '  I  jist 
put  it  on  agin — o'  purpose.'  And  he  glanced 
at  the  mat. 

Mr  Weech  understood,  and  grinned — a  genuine 
grin  this  time.  'That's  right  Dicky,'  he  said, 
*  never  let  yer  wits  go  a-ramblin',  A  sharp  boy 
like  you's  a  lot  too  good  for  a  shop-boy,  slavin' 
away  from  mornin'  till  night,  an'  treated  un- 
grateful.    Wot  did  'e  sack  ye  for?' 

'  I  dunno.  Took  a  fit  in  'is  'ead,  I  s'pose. 
Wotcher  goin'  to  gimme  for  this  mat?  It's  a 
two  an'  three  mat.* 

'Want  somethink  to  eat,  doncher?'  suggested 
Mr  Weech,  glancing  at  a  heap  of  stale  cake. 


212  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

'  No  I  don't,'  Dicky  answered,  with  sulky 
resolution.     '  I  want  money.' 

'Awright,'  said  Mr  Weech,  resignedly.  'You 
ain't  'ad  much  to  eat  an'  drink  'ere  for  a  long 
time,  though.  But  I'll  do  the  'an'some,  seein' 
you're  bin  treated  ungrateful  by  Grinder.  'Ere's 
twopence.' 

But  Dicky  held  to  the  mat.  'Twopence  ain't 
enough,'  he  said.  '  I  want  fourpence.'  He 
meant  to  spare  nobody — not  even  Mr  Weech. 

'Wot?  Fourpence?'  gasped  Mr  Weech  indig- 
nantly.    '  Wy,  you're  mad.     Take  it  away.' 

Dicky  rolled  the  mat  under  his  arm  and  turned 
to  the  door. 

'  'Ere,'  said  Mr  Weech,  seeing  him  going,  '  I'll 
make  it  thrippence,  seein'  you're  bin  treated 
so  bad.  Thrippence — and  a  slice  o'  cake,'  he 
added,  perceiving  that  Dicky  did  not  hesitate. 

'  I  don't  want  no  cake,'  Dicky  answered  dog- 
gedly. '  I  want  fourpence,  an'  I  won't  take  no 
less.' 

The  good  Weech  was  unwilling  that  Dicky 
should  find  another  market  after  all,  so  he 
submitted   to   the   extortion.     'Ah  well,'  he  said, 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  213 

with  a  sigh,  pulHng  out  the  extra  coppers,  'jist 
for  this  once,  then.  You'll  ave  to  make  it  up 
next  time.  Mindjer,  it's  on'y  'cos  I'm  sorry  for 
ye  bein'  treated  ungrateful.  Don't  you  go  an' 
treat  me  ungrateful,  now.' 

Dicky  pocketed  his  pence  and  made  for  home, 
while  Mr  Weech,  chuckling  gently  at  his  morning 
prophecy  of  a  doormat  for  fourpence,  carried 
the  plunder  to  the  room  reserved  for  new  and 
unused  stock ;  promising  himself,  however,  a  peep 
at  Grinder's  shop  in  the  morning,  to  make  quite 
sure  that  Dicky  had  really  left. 

So  ended  Dicky's  dealings  with  the  house  of 
Grinder.  When  Father  Sturt  next  saw  the 
oil-man,  and  inquired  of  Dicky's  progress,  he 
was  met  with  solemn  congratulations  that  no 
larcenies  were  to  pay  for.  Mr  Grinder's  sagacity, 
it  seemed,  had  enabled  him  to  detect  and  crush 
at  the  outset  Dicky's  plans  for  selling  stock 
wholesale  on  his  own  account.  Out  of  con- 
sideration for  the  vicar's  recommendation  he  had 
refrained  from  handing  the  boy  over  to  the 
police,  but  had  paid  him  a  week  in  advance 
and    dismissed    him.      Father    Sturt   insisted  on 


214  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

repaying  the  money,  and  went  his  way  with  a 
heavy  heart.  For  if  this  were  what  came  of 
the  promising  among  his  flock,  what  of  the 
others?  For  some  while  he  saw  nothing  of 
Dicky;  and  the  incident  fell  back  among  a 
crowd  of  others  in  his  remembrance :  for  Dicky 
was  but  one  among  thousands,  and  the  disap- 
pointment was  but  one  of  many  hundreds. 

Lying  awake  that  night,  but  with  closed  eyes, 
Dicky  heard  his  mother,  talking  with  his  father, 
suggest  that  perhaps  an  enemy  had  earwigged 
Grinder,  and  told  him  a  tale  that  had  brought 
about  Dicky's  dismissal :  somebody,  perhaps, 
who  wanted  the  situation  for  somebody  else. 
Josh  Perrott  did  no  more  than  grunt  at  the 
guess,  but  it  gave  a  new  light  to  Dicky. 
Clearly  that  would  account  for  Grinder's  change. 
But  who  could  the  mischief-maker  be  ? 

The  little  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  ticked  away 
busily  in  the  silence,  and  Dicky  instantly  thought 
of  the  hunchback.  He  it  must  have  been,  without 
a  doubt.  Who  else  ?  Was  he  not  hanging  about 
the  shop,  staring  and  sneering,  but  a  day  or  two 
back  ?     And  was  it  not  he  who  had  pursued  him 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  215 

with  malice  on  every  occasion,  in  school  and  out  ? 
Had  not  Bobby  Roper  this  very  trick  of  lying 
tales?  Where  was  the  gratuitous  injury  in  all 
these  four  years  that  had  not  been  Bobby 
Roper's  work?  Dicky  trembled  with  rage  as  he 
lay,  and  he  resolved  on  condign  revenge.  The 
war  with  Dove  Lane  was  over  for  the  time 
being,  but  that  made  it  easier  for  him  to  catch 
his  enemy. 


XXII 

THE  feud  between  the  Jago  and  Dove  Lane 
was  eternal,  just  as  was  that  between  the 
Ranns  and  the  Learys ;  but,  Hke  the  Rann 
and  Leary  feud,  it  had  its  paroxysms  and  its 
intervals.  And,  in  both  cases,  the  close  of  a 
paroxysm  was  signalised  by  a  great  show  of 
amity  between  the  factions.  Bob  Rann  and 
Billy  Leary  would  drink  affably  from  the  same 
pot,  and  Norah  Walsh  and  Sally  Green  would 
call  each  other  '  mum ' ;  while  Jagos  and  Dove- 
Laners  would  mingle  in  bars  and  lend  pinches 
of  tobacco,  and  call  each  other  '  matey.'  A 
paroxysm  in  the  war  had  now  passed,  and  re- 
conciliation was  due.  The  Dove-Laners  had 
been  heavily  thrashed:  their  benjamins  and 
kicksies   had   been  impounded  in   Meakin  Street, 

and   they  had  ceased  from   buying.     Dove   Lane 

216 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  217 

itself  had  been  swept  from  end  to  end  by  the 
victorious  Jago,  and  the  populations  of  both 
were  dotted  thickly  with  bandaged  heads.  This 
satisfactory  state  of  things  achieved,  there  was 
little  reason  left  for  fighting.  Moreover,  if 
fighting  persisted  too  long  at  a  time,  the  police 
were  apt  to  turn  up  in  numbers,  subjecting  the 
neighbourhood  to  much  inconvenient  scrutiny, 
and  very  often  coming  across  Jagos  —  or  even 
Dove-Laners  —  'wanted'  on  old  accounts.  So 
peace  was  declared ;  and,  as  a  visible  sign 
thereof,  it  was  determined  that  the  Dove-Laners 
should  visit  the  Jago  in  a  body,  there  to  join 
in  a  sing-song  at  Mother  Gapp's.  Mother 
Gapp's  was  chosen,  not  only  because  it  was 
Mother  Gapp's  —  an  important  consideration  — 
but  also  because  of  the  large  room  behind  the 
bar,  called  the  '  club-room,'  which  had  long  ago 
been  made  of  two  rooms  and  a  big  cupboard, 
by  the  cutting  away  of  crazy  partitions  from 
the  crazy  walls. 

Scarce  was  it  dark  when  the  Dove-Laners,  in 
a  succession  of  hilarious  groups — but  withal  a 
trifle  suspicious — began  to  push  through  Mother 


2i8  A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO 

Gapp's  doors.  Their  caps  pulled  down  to  their 
ears,  their  hands  in  their  pockets,  their 
shoulders  humped,  and  their  jackets  buttoned 
tight,  they  lurched  through  the  Jago,  grinning 
with  uneasy  affability  at  the  greetings  that 
met  them,  being  less  practised  than  the  Jagos 
in  the  assumption  of  elaborate  cordiality. 

In  the  club-room  of  the  Feathers  there  were 
but  three  or  four  of  the  other  party,  though 
the  bar  was  packed.  The  three  or  four,  of 
whom  Josh  Perrott  was  one,  were  by  way  of  a 
committee  of  stewards  deputed  to  bid  the  Dove- 
Laners  welcome,  and  to  help  them  to  seats. 
The  Jagos  were  in  some  sort  in  the  situation  of 
hosts,  and  it  had  been  decided  after  debate  that 
it  would  ill  become  them  to  take  their  places 
till  their  guests  were  seated.  The  punctilio 
of  the  Jago  on  such  occasions  was  a  marvel 
ever. 

So  Josh  Perrott  stood  at  one  side  of  the 
club-room  door  and  Billy  Leary  at  the  other, 
shaking  hands  with  all  who  entered,  and 
strenuously  maintaining  cheerful  grins.  Now 
the    Jago    smile   was    a    smile    by   itself,   unlike 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  219 

the  smiles  in  other  places.  It  faded  suddenly, 
and  left  the  face — the  Jago  face  —  drawn  and 
sad  and  startling  by  contrast,  as  of  a  man  be- 
trayed into  mirth  in  the  midst  of  great  sorrow. 
So  that  a  persistent  grin  was  known  for  a 
work  of  conscious  effort. 

The  Dove-Laners  came  in  still  larger  numbers 
than  had  been  expected,  and  before  long  it  was 
perceived  that  there  would  be  little  space  in  the 
club-room,  if  any  at  all,  for  the  Jagos.  Already 
the  visitors  seemed  to  fill  the  place,  but  they  still 
kept  coming,  and  found  places  by  squeezing. 
There  was  some  doubt  as  to  what  had  best  be 
done.  Meanwhile  the  sing-song  began,  for  at 
least  a  score  were  anxious  to  'oblige'  at  once, 
and  every  moment  fresh  volunteers  arose.  Many 
Dove  -  Laners  stood  up,  and  so  made  more 
room ;  but  more  came,  and  still  more,  till  the 
club-room  could  hold  not  another,  and  the 
very  walls  were  like  to  burst.  Under  the  low 
ceiling  hung  a  layer  of  smoke  that  obscured  the 
face  of  the  man  standing  on  the  table  at  the  end 
to  sing;  and  under  the  smoke  was  a  close- 
packed    array    of   heads,   hats,    and    clay    pipes, 


220  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

much   diversified   by   white    bandages   and   black 
eyes. 

Such  Dove-Laners  as  came  in  now  were  fain 
to  find  places  in  the  bar,  if  they  could  ;  and  a 
crowd  of  Jagos,  men  and  women,  hung  about  the 
doors  of  the  Feathers.  More  fortunate  than 
other  boys,  Dicky,  who  would  go  anywhere  to 
hear  what  purported  to  be  music,  had  succeeded 
in  worming  himself  through  the  bar  and  almost 
to  the  door  of  the  club-room;  but  he  could  get 
no  farther,  and  now  he  stood  compressed, 
bounded  on  the  face  by  Cocko  Harnwell's  coat- 
tails,  and  on  the  back  of  the  head  by  Fluffy 
Pike's  moleskin  waistcoat,  with  pearlies  down 
the  front  and  the  artful  dodge  over  the  pockets. 
Pud  Palmer — one  of  the  reception  committee — 
was  singing.  He  accompanied  his  chorus  by 
a  step  dance,  and  all  the  company  stamped  in 
sympathy : — 

'  Sh^s  a  fighter^  shds  a  biter,  she's  a  swearer,  she's  a  fearer, 

The  g07tophs  down  aar  alley  they  calls  'er  Rorty  Sal; 
But  as  Fm  a  pertikiler  sort  d'  bloke,  I  calls  'er  Rorty  Sairer, 
rm  goirC — ^ 

Crack  ! — CRASH  I 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  221 

Dicky  clung  to  Cocko  Harnwell's  coat-tails  lest 
he  were  trampled  to  death;  and  for  a  while  he 
was  flung  about,  crushed  and  bruised,  among 
rushing  men,  like  a  swimmer  among  breakers, 
while  the  air  was  rent  with  howls  and  the  smash 
of  glass.     For  the  club-room  floor  had  given  way. 

It  had  been  built  but  slightly  in  the  beginning, 
as  floor  for  two  small  rooms  and  a  cupboard, 
with  little  weight  to  carry.  Old  and  rotten 
now,  and  put  to  the  strain  of  a  multitude, 
stamping  in  unison,  it  had  failed  utterly,  and  had 
let  down  a  struggling  mob  of  men  five  feet  on 
the  barrels  in  the  cellar,  panic  -  stricken  and 
jumbled  with  tables,  pots,  wooden  forms,  lighted 
pipes  and  splintered  joinery. 

From  the  midst  of  the  stramash  a  Dove-Laner 
bawled  aloud  that  it  was  a  trap,  and  instantly 
Jagos  and  Dove  -  Laners  were  at  each  others' 
throats,  and  it  was  like  to  go  hard  with  the  few 
Jagos  among  the  ruins.  Billy  Leary  laid  about 
him  desperately  with  a  ragged  piece  of  flooring, 
while  Josh  Perrott  and  Pud  Palmer  battered 
Dove  -  Laners  with  quart  pots.  Then  it  was 
shouted  without  that  the  Dove-Laners  were  ex- 


222  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

terminating  the  Jagos  within,  and  a  torrent  of 
Jagos  burst  through  the  doors,  poured  through 
the  bar,  and  over  the  club-room  threshold  into 
the  confusion  below. 

Dicky,  bruised,  frightened  and  flung  like  a  rag 
this  way  and  that,  at  last  made  shift  to  grasp  a 
post,  and  climb  up  on  the  bar  counter.  Mother 
Gapp,  a  dishevelled  maniac,  was  dancing  amid 
pots  and  broken  glass,  black  in  the  face,  scream- 
ing inaudibly.  Dicky  stumbled  along  the  counter, 
climbed  over  the  broken  end  of  a  partition,  and 
fell  into  the  arms  of  Kiddo  Cook,  coming  in 
with  the  rush.  *  Put  the  boy  out ! '  yelled  Kiddo, 
turning  and  heaving  him  over  the  heads  behind 
him.  Somebody  caught  Dicky  by  a  leg  and  an 
arm,  his  head  hit  the  door  post,  the  world  turned 
a  double-somersault  about  him,  and  he  came 
down  with  a  crash.  He  was  on  the  flags  of 
Old  Jago  Street,  with  all  his  breath  driven  out 
of  him. 

But  he  was  quickly  on  his  feet  again.  A 
crowd  beat  against  the  front  of  Mother  Gapp's, 
and  reinforcements  came  running  from  every- 
where,   with    the    familiar    rallying-cry,    '  Jago  ! 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  223 

Jago  'old  tight ! '  Dove  Lane  had  abused  the 
Jago  hospitah'ty ;  woe  to  the  Dove-Laners ! 

There  were  scuffles  here  and  there,  where 
Dove-Laners,  who  had  never  reached  the  club- 
room,  or  who  had  been  crowded  out  of  it,  made 
for  escape.  Dicky  was  shaken  and  sore,  but  he 
pulled  himself  together  resolutely.  He  had  seen 
a  few  Dove  Lane  boys  about  before  he  had  got 
into  the  Feathers,  and  plainly  it  was  his  duty  to 
find  them  and  bash  them.  Moreover,  he  won- 
dered what  had  become  of  his  father.  He  hast- 
ened through  the  dark  passage  of  the  house 
next  to  Mother  Gapp's,  into  the  back  yard, 
and  through  the  broken  fence.  There  was  a 
door  in  the  club-room  wall,  and  through  this 
he  thought  to  see  what  was  going  forward. 

The  cellar — at  any  rate,  at  the  farther  end — 
was  a  pit  of  writhing  forms,  and  the  din  rose 
loud  as  ever.  A  short  figure  stood  black  against 
the  light,  and  held  by  the  doorpost,  looking 
down  at  the  riot.  Dicky  knew  it.  He  sprang 
at  Bobby  Roper,  pulled  him  by  the  arm,  and 
struck  at  him  furiously.  The  hunchback,  whim- 
pering, did  his  best  to  retaliate  and  to  get  away; 


224  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

but  Dicky,  raging  at  the  remembrance  of  his 
fancied  injury,  struck  savagely,  and  struck  again, 
till  Bobby  Roper  tripped  backward  over  the 
projecting  end  of  a  broken  floor  -  board,  and 
pitched  headlong  into  the  cellar.  He  struck  a 
barrel  and  rolled  over,  falling  into  the  space  be- 
tween that  and  two  other  barrels.  Dicky  looked, 
but  the  hunchback  did  not  move.  Then  some  of 
the  Dove-Laners  flung  pots  at  the  lamps  hanging 
against  the  club-room  walls.  Soon  they  were 
smashed  and  fell,  and  there  was  a  darkness ; 
and  under  cover  thereof  the  aliens  essayed  flight. 

Dicky  was  a  little  frightened  at  what  he  had 
done,  but  he  felt  that  with  Bobby  Roper  any- 
thing was  justifiable.  Some  Dove-Laners  escaped 
by  the  back  door — the  cellar  was  low,  and  there 
was  not  five  feet  between  the  barrels  and  the 
broken  joists — and  these  Dicky  avoided  by  get- 
ting back  through  the  fence.  In  the  end,  most 
of  the  enemy  struggled  away  by  one  means 
or  another,  and  when  lights  were  brought  at  last 
the  Jagos  were  found  pummelling  each  other 
savagely  in  the  gloom. 

Father  Sturt,  apprised  of  something  uncommon 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  225 

by  the  exodus  of  members  from  the  club,  finally 
locked  the  doors  and  came  to  investigate.  He 
arrived  as  the  Jagos  were  extricating  them- 
selves from  the  cellar,  and  it  was  he  who  lifted 
the  little  hunchback  from  among  the  barrels 
and  carried  him  into  the  open  air ;  he  also  who 
carried  him  home.  No  bone  was  broken,  and 
no  joint  was  disturbed,  but  there  was  a  serious 
shock,  many  contusions,  and  a  cut  on  the  scalp. 
So  said  the  surgeon  whom  Father  Sturt  took 
with  him  to  Dove  Lane.  And  Bobby  Roper 
lay  a  fortnight  in  bed. 

More  plaster  than  ever  embellished  the  heads 
of  Dove  Lane  and  the  Jago  that  night;  but 
for  the  Jagos  there  was  compensation.  For 
down  among  the  barrels  lay  many  a  packet 
of  tobacco,  many  a  pair  of  boots,  and  many  a 
corner  stuffed  with  mixed  property  of  other 
sorts :  which  Mother  Gapp  had  fenced  for  many 
a  month  back.  So  that  it  happened  to  more 
than  one  warrior  to  carry  home  again  something 
with  which  he  had  run  between  the  '  Posties ' 
long  before,  and  had  sold  to  Mother  Gapp  for 
what  she  would  give. 


226  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

The  ground  floor  of  the  Feathers  stood  a 
battered  shell.  The  damage  of  four  years  ago 
was  inconsiderable  compared  to  this.  With 
tears  and  blasphemy  Mother  Gapp  invaded  the 
hoard  of  her  long  iniquity  to  buy  a  new  floor ; 
but  it  was  the  larceny — the  taking  of  the  tobacco 
and  the  boots,  and  the  many  other  things  from 
among  the  barrels  —  that  cut  her  to  the  soul. 
A  crool — a  crool  thing  was  such  robbery — sheer 
robbery,  said  Mother  Gapp. 

Josh  Perrott  got  a  bad  sprain  in  the  cellar 
and  had  to  be  helped  home.  More,  he  took 
with  him  not  a  single  piece  of  plunder,  such 
was  his  painful  disablement. 


XXIII 

FOR  more  than  a  week  Josh  Perrott  could 
not  walk  about.  And  it  was  a  bad  week. 
For  some  little  while  his  luck  had  been  but 
poor,  and  now  he  found  himself  laid  up  with  a 
total  reserve  fund  of  fourteen  pence.  A  coat 
was  pawned  with  old  Poll  Rann  (who  kept  a 
leaving  shop  in  a  first  floor  back  in  Jago  Row) 
for  ninepence.  Then  Josh  swore  at  Dicky  for 
not  being  still  at  Grinder's,  and  told  him  to 
turn  out  and  bring  home  some  money.  Dicky 
had  risen  almost  too  sore  and  stiff  to  stand,  on 
the  morning  after  the  fight  at  the  Feathers,  and 
he  was  little  better  now.  But  he  had  to  go, 
and  he  went,  though  he  well  knew  that  a  click 
was  out  of  the  question,  for  his  joints  almost 
refused  to  bend.     But  he  found  that  the  fat's  a-run- 

ning   boys  were   contemplating  business,  and  he 

227 


2  28  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

scouted  for  them  with  such  success  as  to  bring 
home  sevenpence  in  the  evening.  Then  Kiddo 
Cook,  who  had  left  Mother  Gapp's  with  a 
double  armful  on  the  night  of  the  sing-song, 
found  himself  rich  enough,  being  a  bachelor,  to 
lend  Josh  eighteenpence.  And  a  shawl  of  Hannah 
Perrott's  was  pawned.  That,  though,  was  redeemed 
the  next  day,  together  with  the  coat.  For  Dicky 
brought  home  a  golden  sovereign. 

It  had  been  an  easy  click — scarce  a  click  at  all, 
perhaps,  strictly  speaking.  Dicky  had  tramped 
into  the  city,  and  had  found  a  crowd  outside 
St  Paul's  —  a  well-dressed  crowd,  not  being 
moved  on :  for  something  was  going  forward  in 
the  cathedral.  He  recognised  one  of  the  High 
Mob,  a  pogue- hunter  —  that  is  a  pickpocket 
who  deals  in  purses.  Dicky  watched  this  man's 
movements,  by  way  of  education ;  for  he  was 
an  eminent  practitioner,  and  worked  alone,  with 
no  assistant  to  cover  him.  Dicky  saw  him  in 
the  thick  of  the  crowd,  standing  beside  and  be- 
hind one  lady  after  another;  but  it  was  only 
when  his  elbow  bent  to  slip  something  into  his 
own  pocket  that    Dicky  knew   he  had   'touched.' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  229 

Presently  he  moved  to  another  part  of  the 
crowd,  where  mostly  men  were  standing,  and 
there  he  stealthily  let  drop  a  crumpled  news- 
paper, and  straightway  left  the  crowd.  He  had 
*  worked '  it  as  much  as  he  judged  safe.  Dicky 
wriggled  toward  the  crumpled  paper,  slipped  it 
under  his  jacket,  and  cleared  away  also.  He 
knew  that  there  was  something  in  the  paper 
beside  news  :  that,  in  fact,  there  were  purses  in 
it — purses  emptied  and  shed  as  soon  as  might 
be,  because  nobody  can  swear  to  money,  but 
strange  purses  lead  to  destruction.  Dicky  recked 
little  of  this  danger,  but  made  his  best  pace  to 
a  recess  in  a  back  street,  there  to  examine  his 
pogues;  for  though  the  uxter  was  gone  from 
them,  they  might  yet  bring  a  few  coppers  from 
Mr  Weech,  if  they  were  of  good  quality.  They 
were  a  fairly  sound  lot  One  had  a  large  clasp 
that  looked  like  silver,  and  another  was  quite 
new,  and  Dicky  was  observing  with  satisfaction 
the  shop-shininess  of  the  lining,  when  he  perceived 
a  cunning  pocket  at  the  back,  lying  flat  against 
the  main  integument — and  in  it  was  a  sovereign  ! 
He  gulped  at  the  sight.     Clearly  the  pogue-hunter, 


230  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

emptying  the  pogues  in  his  pocket  by  sense  of 
touch,  had  missed  the  flat  pocket.  Dicky  was 
not  yet  able  to  run  with  freedom,  but  he  never 
ceased  from  trotting  till  he  reached  his  own 
staircase  in  Old  Jago  Street.  And  so  the  eight 
or  nine  days  passed,  and  Josh  went  out  into 
the  Jago  with  no  more  than  a  tenderness  about 
his  ankle. 

Now,  he  much  desired  a  good  click ;  so  he 
went  across  High  Street  Shoreditch,  to  Kings- 
land  Railway  Station  and  bought  a  ticket  for 
Canonbury. 

Luck  was  against  him,  it  was  plain.  He 
tramped  the  northern  suburbs  from  three  o'clock 
till  dark,  but  touched  for  nothing.  He  spent 
money,  indeed,  for  he  feared  to  overwork  his 
ankle,  and  for  that  reason  rested  in  divers 
public-houses.  He  peeped  in  at  the  gates  of 
quiet  gardens,  in  the  hope  of  garden-hose  left 
unwatched,  or  tennis-rackets  lying  in  a  handy 
summer-house.  But  he  saw  none.  He  pried 
about  the  doors  of  private  stable-yards,  in  case 
of  absent  grooms  and  unprotected  bunches  of 
harness ;  but  in  vain.     He  inspected  quiet  areas  and 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  231 

kitchen  entrances  in  search  of  unguarded  spoons 
— even  descended  into  one  area,  where  he  had 
to  make  an  awkward  excuse  about  buying  old 
bottles,  in  consequence  of  meeting  the  cook  at 
the  door.  He  tramped  one  quiet  road  after 
another  on  the  look  out  for  a  dead  'un — a 
house  furnished,  but  untenanted.  But  there 
was  never  a  dead  'un,  it  seemed,  in  all  the 
northern  district.  So  he  grew  tired  and  short- 
tempered,  and  cursed  himself  for  that  he  had  not 
driven  off  with  a  baker's  horse  and  cart  that 
had  tempted  him  early  in  the  afternoon. 

It  grew  twilight,  and  then  dark.  Josh  sat  in 
a  public-house,  and  took  a  long  rest  and  some 
bread  and  cheese.  It  would  never  do  to  go 
home  without  touching,  and  for  some  time  he 
considered  possibilities  with  regard  to  a  hand- 
ful of  silver  money,  kept  in  a  glass  on  a  shelf 
behind  the  bar.  But  it  was  out  of  reach,  and  there 
were  too  many  people  in  the  place  for  any  attempt 
by  climbing  on  the  counter.  Josh  grew  savage 
and  soured.  Plastering  itself  was  not  such  trouble- 
some work  ;  and  at  least  the  pay  was  certain.  It 
was  little  short  of  ten  o'clock  when  he  left  the 


232  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

public-house  and  turned  back  toward  Canonbury. 
He  would  have  sometJiing  on  the  way,  he  re- 
solved, and  he  would  catch  the  first  train  home. 
He  would  have  to  knock  somebody  over  in  a 
dark  street,  that  was  all.  It  was  nothing  new, 
but  he  would  rather  have  made  his  click  another 
way  this  time,  because  his  tender  ankle  might 
keep  him  slow,  or  even  give  way  altogether ;  and 
to  be  caught  in  a  robbery  with  violence  might 
easily  mean  something  more  than  mere  imprison- 
ment ;  it  might  mean  a  dose  of  the  '  cat ' :  and 
the  cat  was  a  thing  the  thought  or  the  men- 
tion whereof  sent  shudders  through  the  Old 
Jago. 

But  no:  nobody  worth  knocking  down  came 
his  way.  Truly  luck  was  out  to-night.  There 
was  a  spot  by  the  long  garden  wall  of  a  corner 
house  that  would  have  suited  admirably,  and 
as  Josh  lingered  there,  and  looked  about  him, 
his  eye  fell  on  a  ladder,  reared  nearly  upright 
against  the  back  wall  of  that  same  corner 
house,  and  lashed  at  the  roof.  It  passed  by 
the  side  of  the  second  floor  window,  whereof 
the  top  sash  was  a  little  open.     That  would  do. 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  233 

It  was  not  his  usual  line  of  work,  but  it  looked 
very  promising. 

He  stuck  his  stick  under  his  waistcoat  by 
way  of  the  collar,  and  climbed  the  wall  with 
gingerly  care,  giving  his  sound  foot  all  the 
hard  work.  The  ladder  offered  no  difficulty, 
but  the  bottom  sash  of  the  window  was  stiff, 
and  he  cracked  a  pane  of  glass  in  pushing  at 
the  frame  with  his  stick.  The  sash  lifted,  how- 
ever, in  the  end,  and  he  climbed  into  the  dark 
room,  being  much  impeded  by  the  dressing- 
table.  All  was  quiet  in  the  house,  and  the 
ticking  of  a  watch  on  the  dressing-table  was 
distinct  in  the  ear.  Josh  felt  for  it  and  found 
it,  with  a  chain  hanging  from  the  bow. 

The  house  was  uncommonly  quiet.  Could  it 
possibly  be  a  dead  'un  after  all  ?  Josh  felt 
that  he  ought  to  have  inspected  the  front 
windows  before  climbing  the  wall,  but  the  ex- 
citement of  the  long-delayed  chance  had  ruined 
his  discretion.  At  any  rate  he  would  reconnoitre. 
The  door  was  ajar  and  the  landing  was  dark. 

Down  in  the  drawing-room  a  gross,  pimply  man, 
in  shirt-sleeves  and  socks,  sat  up  on  the  sofa  at 


234  A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO 

the  sound  of  an  opened  window  higher  in  the 
house.  He  took  a  drink  from  the  glass  by  his 
side,  and  Hstened.  Then  he  rose  and  went 
softly  upstairs. 

Josh  Perrott  came  out  on  the  landing.  It 
was  a  long  landing,  with  a  staircase  at  the  end, 
illuminated  from  somewhere  below:  so  that  it 
was  not  a  case  of  a  dead  'un  after  all.  He  tip- 
toed along  to  take  a  look  down  the  stairs, 
nevertheless.  Then  he  was  conscious  of  a  loud 
breathing,  as  of  an  over-gorged  cow,  and  up 
behind  the  stair-rails  rose  a  fat  head,  followed 
by  a  fat  trunk,  between  white  shirt-sleeves. 

Josh  sank  into  the  shadow.  The  man  had 
no  light,  but  discover  him  he  must,  sooner  or 
later,  for  the  landing  was  narrow.  Better 
sooner,  and  suddenly.  As  the  man's  foot  was 
on  the  topmost  stair.  Josh  sprang  at  him  with 
a  straight  left-hander  that  took  him  on  the 
broad  chin,  and  sent  him  downstairs  in  a 
heap,  with  a  crash  and  a  roar.  Josh  darted 
back  to  the  room  he  had  just  left,  scrambled 
through  the  window,  and  slid  down  the  ladder, 
as  he  had  slid  down  many  another  when  he  was 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  235 

a  plasterer's  boy.  He  checked  himself  short  of 
the  bottom,  sprang  at  the  wall-coping,  flung 
himself  over,  and  ran  up  the  dark  by-street, 
with  the  sound  of  muffled  roars  and  screams 
faint  in  his  ears. 

He  ran  a  street  or  two,  taking  every  corner 
as  he  came  to  it,  and  then  fell  into  a  walk.  In 
his  flight  he  had  not  spared  his  ankle,  and  now 
it  was  painful.  Moreover,  he  had  left  his  stick 
behind  him,  in  the  bedroom.  But  he  was  in 
Highbury,  and  Canonbury  Road  Station  was 
less  than  half  a  mile  away.  He  grinned  silently 
as  he  went,  for  there  was  something  in  the 
aspect  of  the  overfed  householder,  and  in  the 
manner  of  his  downfall,  that  gave  the  adventure 
a  comic  flavour.  He  took  a  peep  at  his  spoil 
as  he  passed  under  a  street  lamp,  for  all  watches 
and  chains  are  the  same  in  the  dark,  and  the 
thing  might  be  a  mere  Waterbury  on  a  steel 
guard.  But  no :  both  were  gold,  and  heavy :  a 
red  clock  and  slang  if  ever  there  was  one.  And 
so  Josh  Perrott  hobbled  and  chuckled  his  way 
home. 


XXIV 

BUT  indeed  Josh  Perrott's  luck  was  worse 
than  he  thought.  For  the  gross,  pimply 
man  was  a  High  Mobsman — so  very  high  a  mobs- 
man that  it  would  have  been  slander  and  libel, 
and  a  very  great  expense,  to  write  him  down 
a  mobsman  at  all.  He  paid  a  rent  of  a  hundred 
and  twenty  pounds  a  year,  and  heavy  rates, 
and  put  half-a-crown  into  the  plate  at  a  very 
respectable  chapel  every  Sunday.  He  was,  in 
fact,  the  King  of  High  Mobsmen,  spoken  of 
among  them  as  the  Mogul.  He  did  no  vulgar 
thievery :  he  never  screwed  a  chat,  nor  claimed  a 
peter,  nor  worked  the  mace.  He  sat  easily  at 
home,  and  financed  (sometimes  planned)  promis- 
ing speculations:  a  large  swindle  requiring 
much  ground-baiting  and  preliminary  outlay;  or 

a  robbery  of  specie   from   a    mail    train ;    or    a 

236 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  237 

bank  fraud  needing  organization  and  funds. 
When  the  results  of  such  speculations  consisted 
of  money  he  took  the  lion's  share.  When  they 
were  expressed  in  terms  of  imprisonment  they 
fell  to  active  and  intelligent  subordinates.  So 
that  for  years  the  Mogul  had  lived  an  affluent 
and  a  blameless  life,  far  removed  from  the 
necessity  of  injudicious  bodily  exercise,  and 
characterised  by  every  indulgence  consistent 
with  a  proper  suburban  respectability.  He  had 
patronised,  snubbed,  or  encouraged  High  Mobs- 
men of  more  temerarious  habit,  had  profited 
by  their  exploits,  and  had  read  of  their  con- 
victions and  sentences  with  placid  interest  in 
the  morning  papers.  And  after  all  this,  to 
be  robbed  in  his  own  house  and  knocked  down- 
stairs by  a  casual  buster  was  an  outrage  that 
afflicted  the  Mogul  with  wrath  infuriate.  Because 
that  was  a  sort  of  trouble  that  had  never  seemed 
a  possibility,  to  a  person  of  his  eminence:  and 
because  the  angriest  victim  of  dishonesty  is  a 
thief 

However,  the  burglar  had  got  clean  away,  that 
was  plain ;  and  he  had  taken  the  best  watch  and 


238  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

chain  in  the  house,  with  the  Mogul's  initials 
on  the  back.  So  that  respectable  sufferer  sent 
for  the  police,  and  gave  his  attention  to  the 
the  alleviation  of  bumps  and  the  washing  away 
of  blood.  In  his  bodily  condition  a  light  blow 
was  enough  to  let  a  great  deal  of  blood — no 
doubt  with  benefit ;  and  Josh  Perrott's  blows  were 
not  light  in  any  case. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  not  only  were  the 
police  on  the  look-out  for  a  man  with  a  large 
gold  watch  with  the  Mogul's  monogram  on 
the  back ;  but  also  the  word  was  passed  as  by 
telegraph  through  underground  channels,  till 
every  fence  in  London  was  warned  that  the 
watch  was  the  Mogul's;  and  ere  noon  next 
day  there  was  not  one  but  would  as  lief  have 
put  a  scorpion  in  his  pocket  as  that  same  toy 
and  tackle  that  Josh  Perrott  was  gloating  over 
in  his  back  room  in  Old  Jago  Street. 

As  for  Josh,  his  ankle  was  bad  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  swelled.  He  dabbed  at  it  persever- 
ingly  with  wet  rags,  and  rubbed  it  vigorously, 
so  that  by  one  o'clock  he  was  able  to  lace  up 
his  boot  and  go  out.     He  was  anxious  to  fence 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  239 

his  plunder  without  delay,  and  he  made  his  way 
to  Hoxton.  The  watch  seemed  to  be  some- 
thing especially  good,  and  he  determined  to 
stand  out  for  a  price  well  above  the  usual 
figure.  For  the  swag  of  common  thieves  com- 
manded no  such  prices  as  did  that  of  the 
High  Mob.  All  of  it  was  bought  and  sold  on 
the  simple  system  first  called  into  being  seventy 
years  back  and  more  by  the  prince  of  fences, 
Ikey  Solomons.  A  breast-pin  brought  a  fixed 
sum,  good  or  bad,  and  a  roll  of  cloth  brought 
the  fixed  price  of  a  roll  of  cloth,  regardless 
of  quality.  Thus  a  silver  watch  fetched  six 
shillings,  never  more  and  never  less ;  a  gold 
watch  was  worth  twice  as  much  ;  an  uncommonly 
good  one — a  rich  man's  watch — would  bring  as 
much  as  eighteen  shillings,  if  the  thief  were  judge 
enough  of  its  quality  to  venture  the  demand. 
And  as  it  commonly  took  three  men  to  secure 
a  single  watch  in  the  open  street — one  to  '  front,' 
one  to  snatch,  and  a  third  to  take  from  the 
snatcher — the  gains  of  the  toy-getting  trade  were 
poor,  except  to  the  fence.  This  time  Josh  re- 
solved to  put  pressure  on  the   fence,  and   to   do 


240  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

his  best  to  get  something  as  near  a  sovereign 
as  might  be.  And  as  to  the  chain,  so  thick 
and  heavy,  he  would  fight  his  best  for  the 
privilege  of  sale  by  weight.  Thus  turning  the 
thing  in  his  mind,  he  entered  the  familiar  door- 
way of  the  old  clothes  shop. 

•  *  Vot  is  id  ? '  asked  the  fence,  holding  out 
his  hand  with  the  customary  air  of  contempt 
for  what  was  coming,  by  way  of  discounting 
it  in  advance.  This  particular  fence,  by-the- 
bye,  never  bought  anything  himself  He  in- 
spected whatever  was  brought  on  behalf  of  an 
occult  friend ;  and  the  transaction  was  com- 
pleted by  a  shabby  third  party  in  an  adjoin- 
ing court.  But  he  had  an  amazingly  keen 
regard  for  his  friend's  interests. 

Josh  put  the  watch  into  the  extended  hand. 
The  fence  lifted  it  to  his  face,  turned  it  over, 
and  started.  He  looked  hard  at  Josh,  and  then 
again  at  the  watch,  and  handed  it  hastily  back, 
holding  it  gingerly  by  the  bow.  ' Don'  vant  dot' 
he  said ;  *  nod  me — nod  'im,  I  mean.  No,  no.'  He 
turned  away,  shaking  his  hand  as  though  to  throw 
off  contamination.     '  Take  id  avay.' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  241 

*  Wot's  the  matter  ? '  Josh  demanded,  astonished. 
'  Is  it  'cos  o'  the  letters  on  the  back  ?  You  can 
easy  send  it  to  church,  can't  ye?' 

A  watch  is  '  sent  to  church '  when  it  is  put 
into  another  case.  But  the  fence  waved  away 
the  suggestion.  'Take  id  avay  I  tell  you,'  he 
said.     *  I — 'e  von't  'ave  nodden  to  do  vid  id.' 

'Wot's  the  matter  with  the  chain,  then?'  asked 
Josh.  But  the  fence  walked  away  to  the  back  of 
the  shop,  wagging  his  hands  desperately,  like  a 
wet  man  seeking  a  towel,  and  repeating  only : — 
'  Nodden  to  do  vid  id — take  id  avay — nodden  to 
do  vid  id.' 

Josh  stuffed  his  prize  back  into  his  pocket,  and 
regained  the  street.  He  was  confounded.  What 
was  wrong  with  Cohen  ?  Did  he  suspect  a  police 
trick  to  entrap  him?  Josh  snorted  with  indig- 
nation at  the  thought  He  was  no  nark !  But 
perhaps  the  police  were  showing  a  pressing  in- 
terest in  Cohen's  business  concerns  just  now, 
and  he  had  suspended  fencing  for  a  while  The 
guess  was  a  lame  one,  but  he  could  think  of 
none  better  at  the  moment,  as  he  pushed  his 
way  to  the  Jago.  He  would  try  Mother  Gapp. 
Q 


242  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Mother  Gapp  would  not  even  take  the  watch 
in  her  hands ;  her  eyes  were  good  enough  at 
that  distance.  '  Lor',  Josh  Perrott,'  she  said,  '  wot 
'a'  ye  bin  up  to  now  ?  Want  to  git  me  lagged 
now,  do  ye  ?  Ain't  satisfied  with  breakin'  up 
the  'ouse  an'  ruinin'  a  pore  widder  that  way,  ain't 
ye  ?     You  git  out,  go  on.     I  'ad  'nough  o'  you ! ' 

It  was  very  extraordinary.  Was  there  a  general 
reclamation  of  fences?  But  there  were  men  at 
work  at  the  Feathers,  putting  down  boards  and 
restoring  partitions ;  and  two  of  them  had  been 
'  gone  over '  ruinously  on  their  way  to  work,  and 
now  they  came  and  went  with  four  policemen. 
Possibly  Mother  Gapp  feared  the  observation  of 
carpenters.  Be  it  as  it  might,  there  was  nothing 
for  it  now  but  Weech's. 

Mr  Weech  was  charmed.  'Dear  me,  it's  a 
wonderful  fine  watch,  Mr  Perrott — a  wonderful 
fine  watch.  An'  a  beautiful  chain.'  But  he  was 
looking  narrowly  at  the  big  monogram  as  he 
said  it.  *  It's  reely  a  wonderful  article.  'Ow 
they  do  git  'em  up,  to  be  sure !  Cost  a  lot  o' 
money  too,  I'll  be  bound.  Might  you  be  thinkin' 
o'  sellin'  it?' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  243 

*  Yus  o'  course,'  replied  Josh.  '  That's  wot  I 
brought  it  for.' 

'  Ah,  it's  a  lovely  watch,  Mr  Perrott — a  lov-erly 
watch ;  an'  the  chain  matches  it.  But  you  mustn't 
be  too  'ard  on  me.  Shall  we  say  four  pound  for 
the  little  lot?' 

It  was  more  than  double  Josh's  wildest  hopes, 
but  he  wanted  all  he  could  get.  'Five,'  he  said 
doggedly. 

Weech  gazed  at  him  with  tender  rebuke.  '  Five 
pound's  a  awful  lot  o'  money,  Mr  Perrott,'  he 
said.  'You're  too  'ard  on  me,  reely.  I  'ardly 
know  'ow  I  can  scrape  it  up.  But  it's  a  beauti- 
ful little  lot,  an'  I  won't  'aggie.  But  I  ain't  got 
all  that  money  in  the  'ouse  now.  I  never  keep 
so  much  money  in  the  'ouse — sich  a  neighb'r'ood, 
Mr  Perrott !  Bring  it  round  to-morrer  mornin' 
at  eleven.' 

'Awright,  I'll  come.     Five  quid,  mind.' 

'Ah  yus,'  answered  Mr  Weech,  with  a  reprov- 
ing smile.     '  It's  reely  more  than  I  ought ! ' 

Josh  was  jubilant,  and  forgot  his  sore  ankle. 
He  had  never  handled  such  a  sum  as  five 
pounds   since   his   fight   with    Billy   Leary,   years 


244  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

ago ;  when,  indeed,  he  had  stooped  to  folly  in  the 
shape  of  lavish  treating,  and  so  had  not  enjoyed 
the  handling  of  the  full  amount. 

Mr  Weech,  also,  was  pleased.  For  it  was  a 
great  stroke  of  business  to  oblige  so  distinguished 
a  person  as  the  Mogul.  There  was  no  telling 
what  advantages  it  might  not  lead  to  in  the  way 
of  trade. 

That  night  the  Perrotts  had  a  hot  supper, 
brought  from  Walker's  cookshop  in  paper.  And 
at  eleven  the  next  morning  Josh,  twenty  yards 
from  Mr  Weech's  door,  with  the  watch  and  chain 
in  his  pocket,  was  tapped  on  the  arm  by  a  con- 
stable in  plain  clothes,  while  another  came  up 
on  the  other  side.  'Mornin',  Perrott,'  said  the 
first  constable,  cheerily.  'We've  got  a  little 
business  with  you  at  the  station.* 

'Me?     Wot  for?' 

'  Oh  well,  come  along  ;  p'raps  it  ain't  anything — 
unless  there's  a  gold  watch  an'  chain  on  you, 
from  Highbury.     It's  just  a  turnin'  over.' 

*  Awright,'  replied  Josh,  resignedly.  *  It's  a  fair 
cop.     I'll  go  quiet' 

'  That's  right,  Perrott ;  it  ain't  no  good  playin' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  245 

the  fool,  you  know.'  They  were  moving  along; 
and  as  they  came  by  Weech's  shop,  a  whiskered 
face,  with  a  patch  of  shining  scalp  over  it,  peeped 
from  behind  a  curtain  that  hung  at  the  rear  of 
the  bloaters  and  plumcake  in  the  window.  As 
he  saw  it,  Josh  ducked  suddenly,  wrenching  his 
arm  free,  and  dashed  over  the  threshold.  Mr 
Weech,  whiskers  and  apron  flying,  galloped 
through  the  door  at  the  back,  and  the  constables 
sprang  upon  Josh  instantly  and  dragged  him  into 
the  street.  *  Wotcher  mean  ? '  cried  the  one  who 
knew  him,  indignantly,  and  with  a  significant 
glance  at  the  other.     '  Call  that  goin'  quiet  ? ' 

Josh's  face  was  white  and  staring  with  rage. 
'  Awright,'  he  grunted  through  his  shut  teeth, 
after  a  pause.  '  I'll  go  quiet  now.  I  ain't  got 
nothin'  agin  you' 


XXV 

DICKY'S  morning  theft  that  day  had  been 
but  a  small  one — he  had  run  off  with 
a  new  two-foot  rule  that  a  cabinet-maker  had 
carelessly  left  on  an  unfinished  office  table  at 
his  shop  door  in  Curtain  Road.  It  was  not 
much,  but  it  might  fetch  some  sort  of  a 
dinner  at  Weech's,  which  would  be  better  than 
going  home,  and,  perhaps,  finding  nothing.  So 
about  noon,  all  ignorant  of  his  father's  mis- 
fortune, he  came  by  way  of  Holywell  Lane  and 
Bethnal  Green  Road  to  Meakin  Street. 

Mr  Weech  looked  at  him  rather  oddly,  Dicky 
fancied,  when  he  came  in,  but  he  took  the  two- 
foot  rule  with  alacrity,  and  brought  Dicky  a 
rasher  of  bacon,  and  a  slice  of  cake  afterward. 
This  seemed  very  generous.  More :  Mr  Weech's 
manner  was  uncommonly  amiable,  and  when  the 

meal   was   over,  of  his   own    motion,  he   handed 

246 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  247 

over  a  supplementary  penny.  Dicky  was  sur- 
prised ;  but  he  had  no  objection,  and  he  thought 
little  more  about  it. 

As  soon  as  he  appeared  in  Luck  Row  he 
was  told  that  his  father  had  been  '  smugged.' 
Indeed  the  tidings  had  filled  the  Jago  within 
ten  minutes.  Josh  Perrott  was  walking  quietly 
along  Meakin  Street, — so  went  the  news, — when 
up  comes  Snuffy  and  another  split,  and  smugs 
him.  Josh  had  a  go  for  Weech's  door,  to  cut 
his  lucky  out  at  the  back,  but  was  caught.  That 
was  a  smart  notion  of  Josh's,  the  Jago  opinion 
ran,  to  get  through  Weech's  and  out  into  the 
courts  behind.     But  it  was  no  go. 

Hannah  Perrott  sat  in  her  room,  inert  and 
lamenting.  Dicky  could  not  rouse  her,  and  at 
last  he  went  off  by  himself  to  reconnoitre  about 
Commercial  Street  Police  Station,  and  pick  up 
what  information  he  might ;  while  a  gossip  or 
two  came  and  took  Mrs  Perrott  for  consola- 
tion to  Mother  Gapp's.  Little  Em,  unwashed, 
tangled  and  weeping,  could  well  take  care  of 
herself  and  the  room,  being  more  than  two 
years  old. 


248  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Josh  Perrott  would  be  brought  up  to-morrow, 
Dicky  ascertained,  at  the  North  London  PoHce 
Court.  So  the  next  morning  found  Dicky  trudg- 
ing moodily  along  the  two  miles  of  flags  to 
Stoke  Newington  Road ;  while  his  mother  and 
three  sympathising  friends,  who  foresaw  an  op- 
portunity for  numerous  tiny  drops  with  interest- 
ing circumstances  to  flavour  them,  took  a  penny 
cast  on  the  way  in  a  tramcar. 

Dicky,  with  some  doubt  as  to  the  disposition 
of  the  door-keeping  policeman  toward  ragged 
boys,  waited  for  the  four  women,  and  contrived 
to  pass  in  unobserved  among  them.  Several 
Jagos  were  in  the  court,  interested  not  only  in 
Josh's  adventure,  but  in  one  of  Cocko  Harn- 
well's,  who  had  indulged,  the  night  before,  in  an 
animated  little  scramble  with  three  policemen  in 
Dalston ;  and  they  waited  with  sympathetic 
interest  while  the  luck  was  settled  of  a  long 
string  of  drunk-and-disorderlies. 

At  last  Josh  was  brought  in,  and  lurched 
composedly  into  the  dock,  in  the  manner  of 
one  who  knew  the  routine.  The  police  gave 
evidence  of  arrest,  in  consequence  of  information 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  249 

received,  and  of  finding  the  watch  and  chain  in 
Josh's  trousers  pocket.  The  prosecutor,  with 
his  head  conspicuously  bedight  with  sticking- 
plaster,  puffed  and  grunted  up  into  the  witness- 
box,  kissed  the  book,  and  was  a  '  retired  com- 
mission agent.'  He  positively  identified  the 
watch  and  chain,  and  he  not  less  positively 
identified  Josh  Perrott,  whom  he  had  picked  out 
from  a  score  of  men  in  the  police -yard.  This 
would  have  been  a  feat  indeed  for  a  man  who 
had  never  seen  Josh,  and  had  only  once  en- 
countered his  fist  in  the  dark,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  dutiful  though  private  aid  of  Mr  Weech  : 
who,  in  giving  his  information  had  described 
Josh  and  his  one  suit  of  clothes  with  great 
fidelity,  especially  indicating  a  scar  on  the  right 
cheek  -  bone  which  would  mark  him  among  a 
thousand.  The  retired  commission  agent  was 
quite  sure  of  the  prisoner.  He  had  met 
him  on  the  stairs,  where  there  was  plenty 
of  light  from  a  lamp,  and  the  prisoner  had 
attacked  him  savagely,  beating  him  about  the 
head  and  flinging  him  downstairs.  The  police- 
man  called   by  the   prosecutor's  servant  deposed 


250  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

to  finding  the  prosecutor  bruised  and  bleeding. 
There  was  a  ladder  against  the  back  of  the 
house ;  a  bedroom  window  had  been  opened ; 
there  were  muddy  marks  on  the  sill ;  and  he 
had  found  the  stick  —  produced  —  lying  in  the 
bedroom. 

Josh  leaned  easily  on  the  rail  before  him  while 
evidence  was  being  given,  and  said  'No,  yer 
worship,'  whenever  he  was  asked  if  he  desired 
to  question  a  witness.  He  knew  better  than  to 
run  the  risk  of  incriminating  himself  by  chal- 
lenging the  prosecutor's  well-coloured  evidence ; 
and,  as  it  was  a  certain  case  of  committal  for 
trial,  it  would  have  been  useless  in  any  event. 
He  made  the  same  reply  when  he  was  asked  if  he 
had  anything  to  say  before  being  committed  :  and 
straightway  was  *  fullied.'  He  lurched  serenely 
out  of  the  dock,  waving  his  cap  at  his  friends 
in  the  court,  and  that  was  all.  The  Jagos 
waited  till  Cocko  Harnwell  got  his  three  months 
and  then  retired  to  neighbouring  public-houses; 
but  Dicky  remembered  his  little  sister,  and 
hurried  home. 

The   month's   session    at   the   Old    Bailey   had 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  251 

just  begun,  so  that  Josh  had  no  long  stay  at 
Holloway,  Among  the  Jagos  it  was  held  to  be 
a  most  creditable  circumstance  that  Josh  was 
to  take  his  trial  with  full  honours  at  the  Old 
Bailey,  and  not  at  mere  County  Sessions  at 
Clerkenwell,  like  a  simple  lob-crawler  or  peter- 
claimer.  For  Josh's  was  a  case  of  burglary  with 
serious  violence,  such  as  was  fitting  for  the  Old 
Bailey,  and  not  even  a  High  Mobsman  could 
come  to  trial  with  greater  glory.  '  As  like  as  not 
it's  laggin'  dues,  after  'is  other  convictions,'  said 
Bill  Rann.     And  Jerry  Gullen  thought  so  too. 

Dicky  went,  with  his  mother  and  Em,  to  see 
Josh  at  Newgate.  They  stood  with  other  visitors, 
very  noisy,  before  a  double  iron  railing  covered 
with  wire-netting,  at  the  farther  side  whereof 
stood  Josh  and  other  prisoners,  while  a  screaming 
hubbub  of  question  and  answer  filled  the  air.  Josh 
had  little  to  say.  He  lounged  against  the  farther 
railing  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  asked  what 
Cocko  Harnwell  had  got,  and  sent  a  message 
to  Bill  Rann.  While  his  wife  did  little  more 
than  look  dolefully  through  the  wires,  and  pipe : 
— 'Oh,  Josh,  wotever   shall    I    do?'  at   intervals, 


252  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

with  no  particular  emotion;  while  Em  pressed 
her  smudgy  little  face  against  the  wires,  and 
stared  mightily ;  and  while  Dicky  felt  that  if 
he  had  been  younger  he  would  have  cried.  When 
time  was  up,  Josh  waved  his  hand  and  slouched 
off,  and  his  family  turned  out  with  the  rest : 
little  Em  carrying  into  later  years  a  memory 
of  father  as  a  man  who  lived  in  a  cage. 

In  such  a  case  as  this,  the  Jago  would  have 
been  for  ever  disgraced  if  Josh  Perrott's  pals  had 
neglected  to  get  up  a  '  break '  or  subscription 
to  pay  for  his  defence.  Things  were  never  very 
flourishing  in  the  Jago.  But  this  was  the  sort 
of  break  a  Jago  could  not  shirk,  lest  it  were 
remembered  against  him  when  his  own  turn 
came.  So  enough  was  collected  to  brief  an  ex- 
ceedingly junior  counsel,  who  did  his  useless 
best.  But  the  facts  were  too  strong  even  for 
the  most  inexperienced  advocate ;  the  evidence 
of  the  prosecutor  was  nowhere  to  be  shaken, 
and  the  jury  found  a  verdict  of  guilty  without 
leaving  the  box — indeed,  with  scarce  the  formality 
of  collecting  their  heads  together  over  the  rails. 
Then   Josh's   past   was   most   unpleasantly  raked 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  253 

up  before  him.  He  had  been  convicted  of  larceny, 
of  assaulting  the  police,  and  of  robbery  with 
violence.  There  were  two  sentences  of  six  months' 
imprisonment  recorded  against  him,  one  of  three 
months,  and  two  of  a  month.  Besides  fines. 
The  Recorder  considered  it  a  very  serious  offence. 
Not  deterred  by  the  punishments  he  had  already 
received,  the  prisoner  had  proceeded  to  a  worse 
crime  —  burglary ;  and  with  violence.  It  was 
plain  that  lenience  was  wasted  in  such  a  case, 
and  simple  imprisonment  was  not  enough.  There 
must  be  an  exemplary  sentence.  The  prisoner 
must  be  kept  in  penal  servitude  for  five  years. 

Lagging  dues  it  was,  as  Bill  Rann  had  anti- 
cipated. That  Josh  Perrott  agreed  with  him 
was  suggested  by  the  fact  that  from  the  very 
beginning  he  described  himself  as  a  painter; 
because  a  painter  in  prison  is  apt  to  be  employed 
at  times  in  painting — a  lighter  and  a  more  desir- 
able task  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  his  fellows  in 
other  trades. 

In  a  room  by  the  court  Josh  saw  his  wife, 
Dicky,  and  Bill  Rann  (Josh's  brother-in-law  for 
the  occasion)   before  his   ride  to    Holloway,   his 


254  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

one  stopping  place  on  the  way  to  Chelmsford 
Gaol.  Little  Em  had  been  left  sprawling  in  the 
Jago  gutters.  This  time  Hannah  Perrott  wept 
in  good  earnest,  and  Dicky,  notwithstanding  his 
thirteen  years,  blinked  very  hard  at  the  wall 
before  him.  The  arrangement  of  Josh's  affairs 
was  neither  a  long  nor  a  difficult  labour.  '  S'pose 
you'll  'ave  to  do  wot  you  can  with  rush  bags, 
an'  sacks,  and  match-boxes,  an'  wot  not,'  he  said 
to  his  wife,  and  she  assented.  Josh  nodded: — 
'An'  if  you  'ave  to  go  in  the  'ouse,' — he  meant 
the  workhouse, — 'well,  it  can't  be  'elped.  You 
won't  be  no  wuss  auf  'n  me.' 

'  Oh,  shell  be  awright,'  said  Bill  Rann,  jerking 
his  thumb  cheerfully  toward  the  missis.  'Wot 
about   you?      Think  they'll  make  it  Parkhurst?' 

Josh  shook  his  head  moodily.  Parkhurst  being 
the  prison  reserved  for  convicts  of  less  robust 
habit,  he  had  little  hope  of  enjoying  its  easier 
conditions.  Presently  he  said  : — '  I  bin  put  away 
this  time — fair  put  away.' 

'  Wot  ?  '  answered  Bill,  '  narkin'  dues  is  it  ?  ' 

Josh  nodded. 

"Oo  done  it  then?      'Oo  narked?' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  255 

Josh  shook  his  head.  '  Never  mind,'  he  said, 
'  I  don't  want  'im  druv  out  o'  the  Jago  'fore  I 
come  out.  I'd  be  sorry  to  miss  'im.  /  know 
'im — that's  enough.' 

And  then  time  was  up.  Josh  suffered  the 
missis  to  kiss  him,  and  shook  hands  with 
Bill  Rann.  '  Good  luck  to  all  you  Jagos,'  he 
said.  Dicky  shook  hands  too,  and  said  'Good- 
bye, father ! '  in  a  voice  of  such  laboured  cheer- 
fulness that  a  grin  burst  for  a  moment  amid 
Josh's  moody  features  as  he  was  marched  away, 
and  so  departed  for  the  place — in  Jago  idiom — 
where  the  dogs  don't  bite. 


XXVI 

IT  was  Father  Sturt's  practice  to  visit  every 
family  in  his  parish  in  regular  order.  But 
small  as  the  parish  was — insignificant,  indeed, 
in  mere  area — its  population  exceeded  eight 
thousand :  so  that  the  round  was  one  of  many 
months,  for  visiting  was  but  one  among  innumer- 
able duties.  But  Josh  Perrott's  lagging  secured 
his  family  a  special  call.  Not  that  the  circum- 
stances were  in  any  way  novel  or  at  all  uncommon ; 
nor  even  that  the  vicar  had  any  hope  of  being  able 
to  help.  He  was  but  the  one  man  who  could 
swim  in  a  howling  sea  of  human  wreckage.  In 
the  Jago,  wives  like  Hannah  Perrott,  temporarily 
widowed  by  the  absence  of  husbands  'in  the 
country,'  were  to  be  counted  in  scores,  and 
most  were  in  worse  case  than  she,  in  the  matter 

of   dependent    children.      Father    Sturt's    house- 

256 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  257 

list  revealed  the  fact  that  in  Old  Jago  Street 
alone,  near  seventy  of  the  males  were  at  that 
moment  on  ticket-of-leave. 

In  the  Perrott  case,  indeed,  the  sufferers  were 
fortunate,  as  things  went.  Mrs  Perrott  had  but 
herself  and  the  child  of  two  to  keep,  for  Dicky 
could  do  something,  whether  good  or  bad,  for 
himself  The  vicar  might  try  to  get  regular 
work  for  Dicky,  but  it  would  be  a  vain  toil, 
for  he  must  tell  an  employer  what  he  knew  of 
Dicky's  past  and  of  that  other  situation.  He 
could  but  give  the  woman  the  best  counsel  at  his 
command,  and  do  what  he  might  to  quicken 
any  latent  spark  of  energy.  So  he  did  his  best, 
and  that  was  all.  The  struggle  lay  with 
Hannah  Perrott. 

She  had  been  left  before,  and  more  than  once ; 
but  then  the  periods  had  been  shorter,  and,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  things  had  fallen  out  so  well 
that  scarce  more  than  a  meal  here  and  there 
had  had  to  be  missed,  though,  when  they  came, 
the  meals  were  apt  to  be  but  of  crusts.  And 
now  theie  was  more  trouble  ahead  ;  for  though 
she  began  her   lonely   time   with   but   one   small 


258  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

child   on    hand,   she   knew    that    ere   long    there 
would  be  two. 

Of  course,  she  had  worked  before;  not  only 
when  Josh  had  been  '  in '  but  at  other  times,  to 
add  to  the  family  resources.  She  was  a  clumsy 
needlewoman  :  else  she  might  hope  to  earn  some 
ninepence  or  a  shilling  a  day  at  making  shirts, 
by  keeping  well  to  the  needle  for  sixteen  hours 
out  of  the  twenty-four ;  and  from  the  whole 
sum  there  would  be  no  deductions,  except  for 
needles  and  cotton,  and  what  the  frugal  employer 
might  choose  to  subtract  for  work  to  which 
he  could  devise  an  objection.  But,  as  it  was, 
she  must  do  her  best  to  get  some  sack-making. 
They  paid  one  and  sevenpence  a  hundred  for 
sacks,  and,  with  speed  and  long  hours,  she  could 
make  a  hundred  in  four  days.  Rush  bag- 
making  would  bring  even  more,  which  would 
be  desirable,  considering  the  three-and-sixpence 
a  week  for  rent :  which,  with  the  payments  for 
other  rooms,  made  the  rent  of  the  crazy  den 
m  Old  Jago  Street  about  equal,  space  for  space, 
to  that  of  a  house  in  Onslow  Square.  Then 
there  was  a  more  lucrative  employment  still,  but 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  259 

one  to  be  looked  for  at  intervals  only :  one  not  to 
be  counted  on  at  all,  in  fact,  for  it  was  a  prize, 
and  many  sought  after  it.  This  was  the  mak- 
ing of  matchboxes.  For  making  one  hundred 
and  forty-four  outside  cases  with  paper  label  and 
sandpaper,  and  the  same  number  of  trays  to 
slide  into  them — a  gross  of  complete  boxes,  or 
two  hundred  and  eighty-eight  pieces  in  all — 
one  got  twopence  farthing ;  indeed,  for  a 
special  size  one  even  got  a  farthing  a  gross 
more ;  and  all  the  wood  and  the  labels 
and  the  sandpaper  were  provided  free :  so 
that  the  fortunate  operative  lost  nothing 
out  of  the  twopence  farthing  but  the  cost  of 
the  paste,  and  the  string  for  tying  up  the 
boxes  into  regularly  numbered  batches,  and 
the  time  employed  in  fetching  the  work  and 
taking  it  back  again.  And  if  seven  gross  were 
to  be  got,  and  could  be  done  in  a  day — and 
it  was  really  not  very  difficult  for  the  skilful 
hand  who  kept  at  work  long  enough  —  the 
day's  income  was  one  and  threepence  three- 
farthings,  less  expenses:  still  better,  that,  than 
the    shirts.     But    the    work    was    hard    to    get. 


26o  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

As  the  public-spirited  manufacturers  complained : 
people  would  buy  Swedish  matches,  whereas  if 
people  would  Support  Home  Industries  and  buy 
no  matches  but  theirs,  they  would  be  able  to 
order  many  a  twopence-farthingsworth  of  boxes 
more. 

There  might  be  collateral  sources  of  income, 
but  these  were  doubtful  and  irregular.  Pro- 
bably Dicky  would  bring  in  a  few  coppers 
now  and  again.  Then  judicious  attendance  at 
churches,  chapels  and  prayer-meetings  beyond 
the  Jago  borders  was  rewarded  by  coal-tickets, 
boots,  and  the  like.  It  was  necessary  to  know 
just  where  and  when  to  go  and  what  to  say, 
else  the  sole  result  might  be  loss  of  time.  There 
was  a  church  in  Bethnal  Green,  for  instance, 
which  it  would  be  foolish  to  enter  before  the  end 
of  the  Litany,  for  then  you  were  in  good  time 
to  get  your  half-quarter  hundredweight  of  coals ; 
but  at  other  places  they  might  object  to  so  late 
an  appearance.  Above  all,  one  must  know  the 
ropes.  There  were  several  women  in  the  Jago 
who  made  almost  a  living  in  this  way  alone. 
They    were    experts ;     they     knew    every    fund, 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  261 

every  meeting  -  house,  all  the  comings  and 
goings  of  the  gullible ;  insomuch  that  they  would 
take  black  umbrage  at  any  unexpected  diffi- 
culty in  getting  what  they  demanded.  *Wy,' 
one  would  say,  '  I  'ad  to  pitch  sich  a  bleed'n' 
'oly  tale  I  earned  it  twice  over.'  But  these 
were  the  proficient,  and  proficiency  in  the  trade 
was  an  outcome  of  long  experience  working  on 
a  foundation  of  natural  gifts ;  and  Hannah 
Perrott  could  never  hope  to  be  among 
them. 

Turning  these  things  in  her  mind,  she 
addressed  herself  to  her  struggle.  She  managed 
to  get  some  sacks,  but  for  a  week  or  two 
she  could  make  nothing  like  twenty-five  a 
day,  though  Dicky  helped.  Her  fingers  got 
raw;  but  she  managed  to  complete  a  hundred 
within  the  first  week.  They  might  have 
been  better  done,  as  the  employer  said  when 
he  saw  them.  But  she  got  her  full  one  and 
seven  pence.  She  pawned  her  boots  for  four- 
pence,  and  wore  two  old  odd  ones  of  Josh's ;  and 
she  got  twopence  on  a  petticoat.  Dicky  also 
helped  a  little ;   and   at   the   end   of  a   fortnight 


262  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

there  came  a  godsend  in  the  shape  of  material 
for  matchboxes.  Mrs  Perrott  was  slow  with 
them  at  first ;  but  Dicky  was  quick,  and  even 
little  Em  began  to  learn  to  spread  paste. 


XXVII 

DICKY  grew  slighter  and  lanker,  dark  about 
the  eyes,  and  weaker.  He  was  growing 
longitudinally,  and  that  made  his  lateral  wasting 
the  quicker  and  the  more  apparent.  A  furtive 
frighted  look  hung  ever  in  his  face,  a  fugitive 
air  about  his  whole  person.  His  mother's  long 
face  was  longer  than  ever,  and  blacker  under 
the  eyes  than  Dicky's  own,  and  her  weak  open 
mouth  hung  at  the  corners  as  that  of  a  woman 
faint  with  weeping.  Little  Em's  knees  and 
elbows  were  knobs  in  the  midst  of  limbs  of 
unnatural  length.  Rarely  could  a  meal  be  seen 
ahead ;  and  when  it  came,  it  made  Dicky 
doubtful  whether  or  not  hunger  were  really 
caused  by  eating.  But  his  chief  distress  was 
to    see    that    little    Em   cried   not    like  a  child, 

but  silently,  as  she   strove   to  thread   needles  or 

263 


264  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

to  smear  matchbox  labels.  And  when  good 
fortune  brought  matchboxes,  there  was  an  undue 
loss  on  the  twopence  farthing  in  the  matter  of 
paste.  The  stuff  was  a  foul  mess,  sour  and 
faint,  and  it  was  kept  in  a  broken  tea-cup, 
near  which  Dicky  had  detected  his  sister  suck- 
ing her  fingers;  for  in  truth  little  Em  stole 
the  paste. 

On  and  off,  by  one  way  and  another,  Mrs 
Perrott  made  enough  to  keep  the  rent  paid 
with  indifferent  regularity,  and  sometimes  there 
was  a  copper  or  so  left  over.  She  did  fairly 
well,  too,  at  the  churches  and  prayer-meetings ; 
people  saw  her  condition,  and  now  and  again 
would  give  her  something  beyond  the  common 
dole ;  so  that  she  learned  the  trick  of  looking 
more  miserable  than  usual  at  such  places. 

The  roof  provided,  Dicky  felt  that  his  was  the 
task  to  find  food.  Alone,  he  might  have  rubbed 
along  clear  of  starvation,  but  there  were  his 
mother  and  his  sister.  Lack  of  victuals  shook 
his  nerve  and  made  him  timid.  Moreover,  his 
terror  grew  greater  than  ever  at  the  prospect  of 
being  caught  in  a  theft.     He  lay  awake  at  night 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  265 

and  sweated  to  think  of  it.  Who  would  bring  in 
things  from  the  outer  world  for  mother  and  Em 
then  ?  And  the  danger  was  worse  than  ever. 
He  had  felt  the  police-court  birch,  and  it  was  bad, 
very  bad.  But  he  would  take  it  every  day  and 
take  it  almost  without  a  tear,  rather  than  the 
chance  of  a  reformatory.  Magistrates  were  un- 
willing to  send  boys  to  reformatories  while  both 
father  and  mother  were  at  hand  to  control  them, 
for  that  were  relieving  the  parents  of  their 
natural  responsibility ;  but  in  a  case  like  Dicky's, 
a  'schooling'  was  a  very  likely  thing.  So  that 
Dicky,  as  he  prowled,  was  torn  between  implac- 
able need  and  the  fear  of  being  cut  off  from 
all  chance  of  supplying  it. 

It  was  his  rule  never  to  come  home  without 
bringing  something,  were  it  no  more  than  a 
mildewed  crust.  It  was  a  resolve  impossible 
to  keep  at  times,  but  at  those  times  it  was  two 
in  the  morning  ere  he  would  drag  himself, 
pallid  and  faint,  into  the  dark  room  where  the 
others  might  be  —  probably  were  —  lying  awake 
and  unfed.  Rather  than  face  such  a  home-com- 
ing he  had  sometimes  ventured  on  a  more  diffi- 


266  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

cult  feat  than  stealing  in  the  outer  world :  he  had 
stolen  in  the  Jago.  Sam  Cash,  for  instance,  had 
lost  a  bloater. 

Dicky  never  ate  at  Weech's  now.  Rarely,  in- 
deed, would  he  take  payment  in  kind,  unless  it 
were  for  something  of  smaller  value  than  the 
average  of  his  poor  pilferings ;  and  then  he 
carried  the  food  home.  But  cheaper  things  could 
be  bought  elsewhere,  so  that  more  usually  he 
insisted  on  money  payments  :  to  the  grief  of  Mr 
Weech,  who  set  forth  the  odiousness  of  ingrati- 
tude at  length;  though  his  homilies  had  no  sort 
of  effect  on  Dicky's  morals. 

Father  Sturt  saw  that  Hannah  Perrott  gained  no 
ground  in  her  struggle,  and  urged  her  to  apply  for 
outdoor  parish  relief,  promising  to  second  her  request 
with  the  guardians.  But  with  an  odd  throwback 
to  the  respectability  of  her  boiler-making  ancestry, 
she  disliked  the  notion  of  help  from  the  parish, 
and  preferred  to  remain  as  she  was ;  for  there 
at  least  her  ingrained  inertness  seemed  to  side 
with  some  phantom  of  self-respect.  To  her  pre- 
sent position  she  had  subsided  by  almost  imper- 
ceptible degrees,  and  she  was  scarce  conscious  of 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  267 

a  change.  But  to  parish  relief  there  was  a  distinct 
and  palpable  step :  a  step  that,  on  the  whole, 
it  seemed  easier  not  to  take.  But  it  was  with 
eagerness  that  she  took  a  Maternity  Society's 
letter,  wherewith  the  vicar  had  provided  himself 
on  her  behalf.     For  her  time  was  drawing  near. 


XXVI  II 

JOSH  PERROTT  well  understood  the  ad- 
vantage of  good  prison-behaviour,  and  after 
six  months  in  his  Chelmsford  cell  he  had 
earned  the  right  to  a  visit  from  friends.  But 
none  came.  He  had  scarcely  expected  that  any- 
body would,  and  asked  for  the  order  merely 
on  the  general  principle  that  a  man  should 
take  all  he  can  get,  useful  or  not.  For  there 
would  have  been  a  five  shilling  fare  to  pay 
for  each  visitor  from  London,  and  Hannah 
Perrott  could  as  easily  have  paid  five  pounds. 
And  indeed  she  had  other  things  to  think  of. 

Kiddo  Cook  had  been  less  observed  of  late 
in  the  J  ago.  In  simple  fact  he  was  at  work. 
He  found  that  a  steady  week  of  porterage  at 
Spitalfields    Market    would     bring    him     sixteen 

shillings    and    perhaps     a    little   more ;    and    he 

268 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  269 

had  taken  Father  Sturt's  encouragement  to  try 
another  week,  and  a  week  after  that  Father 
Sturt  too,  had  cunningly  stimulated  Kiddo's 
ambitions :  till  he  cherished  aspirations  to  a 
fruit  and  vegetable  stall,  with  a  proper  tarpaulin 
cover  for  bad  weather ;  though  he  cherished 
them  in  secret,  confident  that  they  were  of 
his  own  independent  conception.  Perhaps  the 
Perrotts  saw  as  much  of  Kiddo  as  did  any- 
body at  this  time.  For  Kiddo,  seeing  how 
it  went  with  them  (though  indeed  it  went 
as  badly  with  others  too)  built  up  laboriously 
a  solemn  ar.  d  most  circumstantial  Lie.  There 
was  a  friend  of  his,  a  perfect  gentleman,  who 
used  a  beer-shop  by  Spitalfields  Market,  and 
who  had  just  started  an  extensive  and  com- 
plicated business  in  the  general  provision  line. 
He  sold  all  sorts  of  fruit  and  vegetables 
fresh,  and  all  sorts  of  meat,  carrots,  cabbages, 
saveloys,  fried  fish  and  pease- pudding  cooked. 
His  motto  was  : — '  Everything  of  the  best'  But 
he  had  the  misfortune  to  be  quite  unable  him- 
self to  judge  whether  his  goods  were  really 
of  the   best  or  not,  in   consequence  of  an  injury 


270  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

to  his  palate,  arising  from  a  blow  on  the  mouth 
with  a  quart  pot,  inflicted  in  the  heat  of  dis- 
cussion by  a  wealthy  acquaintance.  So  that  he, 
being  a  perfect  gentleman,  had  requested  Kiddo 
Cook,  out  of  the  friendship  he  bore  him,  to 
drop  in  occasionally  and  test  his  samples. 
'Take  a  good  big  whack,  you  know,'  said  he, 
'and  get  the  advice  of  a  friend  or  two,  if 
you  ain't  sure.'  So  Kiddo  would  take  frequent 
and  handsome  whacks  accordingly,  to  the  perfect 
gentleman's  delight ;  and,  not  quite  knowing 
what  to  do  with  all  the  whacks,  or  being 
desirous  of  an  independent  opinion  on  them 
(there  was  some  confusion  between  these  two 
motives)  he  would  bring  Mrs  Perrott  samples, 
from  time  to  time,  and  hope  it  wouldn't  in- 
convenience her.     It  never  did. 

It  was  late  in  the  dusk  of  a  rainy  day  that 
Kiddo  Cook  stumped  into  Old  Jago  Street 
with  an  apple  in  his  pocket  for  Em.  It  was 
not  much,  but  money  was  a  little  short, 
and  at  any  rate  the  child  would  be  pleased. 
As  he  climbed  the  stairs  he  grew  conscious 
of  sounds  of  anguish,  muffled    by    the    Perrotts' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  271 

door.  There  might  have  been  sobs,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  groans  ;  certainly  little  Em  was 
crying,  though  but  faintly,  and  something — 
perhaps  boot-heels  —  scraped  on  the  boards. 
Kiddo  hesitated  a  little,  and  then  knocked 
softly.  The  knock  was  unnoticed,  so  in  the 
end  he  pushed  the  door  open. 

The  day  had  been  a  bad  one  with  the 
Perrotts.  Dicky  had  gone  out  early,  and  had 
not  returned.  His  mother  had  tramped  unfed 
to  the  sackmakers,  but  there  was  no  work  to 
be  got.  She  tried  the  rush  bag  people,  with 
a  like  result.  Nor  was  any  matchbox  material 
being  given  out.  An  unregarded  turnip  had 
rolled  from  a  shop  into  the  gutter,  and  she 
had  seized  it  stealthily.  It  was  not  in  nature 
to  take  it  home  whole,  and  once  a  corner  was 
cleared,  she  dragged  herself  Jago-ward,  gnawing 
the  root  furtively  as  she  went.  And  so  she 
joined  Em  at  home  late  in  the  afternoon. 

Kiddo  pushed  the  door  open  and  went  in. 
At     his   second   step    he  stood   staring,   and   his 


272  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

chin  dropped.  'Good  Gawd!'  said  Kiddo 
Cook. 

He  cleared  the  stairs  in  three  jumps.  He 
stood  but  an  instant  on  the  flags  before  the 
house,  with  a  quick  glance  each  way,  and  then 
dashed  off  through  the  mud. 

Pigeony  Poll  was  erratic  in  residence,  but 
just  now  she  had  a  room  by  the  roof  of  a 
house  in  Jago  Row,  and  up  the  stairs  of  this 
house   Kiddo  ran,  calling  her  by  name. 

'  Go  over  to  Perrotts',  quick ! '  he  shouted 
from  the  landing  below  as  Poll  appeared  at 
her  door.  '  Run,  for  Gawd's  sake,  or  the 
woman  '11  croak !  I'm  auf  to  Father's.'  And 
he  rushed  away  to  the  vicar's  lodgings. 

Father  Sturt  emerged  at  a  run,  and  made 
for  a  surgeon's  in  Shoreditch  High  Street.  And 
when  the  surgeon  reached  Hannah  Perrott  he 
found  her  stretched  on  her  ragged  bed,  tended, 
with  anxious  clumsiness,  by  Pigeony  Poll ; 
while  little  Em,  tearful  and  abashed,  sat  in  a 
corner  and  nibbled  a  bit  of  turnip. 

Hannah  Perrott  had  anticipated  the  operation 
of  the  Maternity  Society  letter,  and  another  child 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  273 

of  the  Jago  had  come  unconsenting  into  its 
black  inheritance. 

Father  Sturt  met  the  surgeon  as  he  came  away 
in  the  later  evening,  and  asked  if  all  were  well. 
The  surgeon  shrugged  his  shoulders.  'People 
would  call  it  so,'  he  said.  '  The  boy's  alive,  and 
so  is  the  mother.  But  you  and  I  may  say  the 
truth.  You  know  the  Jago  far  better  than  I. 
Is  there  a  child  in  all  this  place  that  wouldn't 
be  better  dead — still  better  unborn?  But  does 
a  day  pass  without  bringing  you  just  such  a 
parishioner?  Here  lies  the  Jago,  a  nest  of  rats, 
breeding,  breeding,  as  only  rats  can  ;  and  we  say 
it  is  well.  On  high  moral  grounds  we  uphold 
the  right  of  rats  to  multiply  their  thousands. 
Sometimes  we  catch  a  rat.  And  we  keep  it  a 
little  while,  nourish  it  carefully,  and  put  it  back 
into  the  nest  to  propagate  its  kind.' 

Father  Sturt  walked  a  little  way  in  silence. 
Then  he  said : — '  You  are  right,  of  course.  But 
who'll  listen,  if  you  shout  it  from  the  housetops  ? 
I  might  try  to  proclaim  it  myself,  if  I  had  time 
and  energy  to  waste.  But  I  have  none — I  must 
work,  and  so  must  you.     The  burden  grows  day 


274  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

by  day,  as  you  say.  The  thing's  hopeless,  perhaps, 
but  that  is  not  for  me  to  discuss.     I  have  my  duty.' 

The  surgeon  was  a  young  man,  but  Shoreditch 
had  helped  him  over  most  of  his  enthusiasms. 
'That's  right,'  he  said,  'quite  right.  People  are 
so  very  genteel,  aren't  they  ? '  He  laughed,  as 
at  a  droll  remembrance.  '  But,  hang  it  all,  men 
like  ourselves  needn't  talk  as  though  the  world 
was  built  of  hardbake.  It's  a  mighty  relief  to 
speak  truth  with  a  man  who  knows — a  man  not 
rotted  through  with  sentiment.  Think  how  few 
men  we  trust  with  the  power  to  give  a  fellow 
creature  a  year  in  gaol,  and  how  carefully  we 
pick  them !  Even  damnation  is  out  of  fashion, 
I  believe,  among  theologians.  But  any  noxious 
wretch  may  damn  human  souls  to  the  Jago,  one 
after  another,  year  in  year  out,  and  we  respect 
his  right :  his  sacred  right.' 

At  the  '  Posties '  the  two  men  separated.  The 
rain,  which  had  abated  for  a  space,  came  up  on 
a  driving  wind,  and  whipped  Dicky  Perrott  home 
to  meet  his  new  brother. 


XXIX 

'"TARINGS  grew  a  little  easier  with  the  Perrotts. 

X       Father    Sturt    saw    that    there   was   food 

while  the  mother  was  renewing  her  strength,  and 

he  had  a  bag  of  linen  sent.     More,  he  carried  his 

point  as  to  parish  relief  by  main  force.     It  was 

two   shillings   and  three  quartern   loaves  a  week. 

Unfortunately   the    loaves    were    imprinted    with 

the  parish  mark,  or  they  might  have  been   sold 

at  the  chandler's,  in  order  that  the  whole  measure 

of   relief   might   be    passed    on    to   the    landlord 

(a     very     respectable     man,    with     a     chandler's 

shop  of  his  own)  for  rent.     As  it  was,  the  bread 

perforce  was  eaten,  and  the  landlord  had  the  two 

shillings,  as  well  as  eighteenpcnce  which  had  to 

be  got  in  some  other  way.     Of  course,  Hannah 

Perrott   might   have   '  taken    in    lodgers '    in    the 

room,  as  others  did,  but  she  doubted  her  ability 

275 


2  76  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

to  bully  the  rent  out  of  them,  or  to  turn  them 
out  if  they  did  not  pay.  Whatever  was  pawnable 
had  gone  already,  of  course,  except  the  little 
nickel-plated  clock.  That  might  have  produced 
as  much  as  sixpence,  but  she  had  a  whim  to  keep 
it.  She  regarded  it  as  a  memorial  of  Josh,  for 
it  was  his  sole  contribution  to  the  family  appoint- 
ments. 

Dicky,  with  a  cast-off  jacket  from  the  vicar's 
store,  took  to  hanging  about  Liverpool  Street 
Station  in  quest  of  bags  to  carry.  Sometimes  he 
got  bags,  and  coppers  for  carrying  them :  some- 
times he  got  kicks  from  porters.  An  hour  or  two 
of  disappointment  in  this  pursuit  would  send 
him  off  on  the  prowl  to  '  find '  new  stock 
for  Mr  Weech.  He  went  farther  afield  now:  to 
the  market-places  in  Mile  End  and  Stepney,  and 
to  the  riverside,  where  there  were  many  chances — 
guarded  jealously,  however,  by  the  pirate  boys  of 
the  neighbourhood,  who  would  tolerate  no  inter- 
lopers at  the  wharves.  In  the  very  early  morning, 
too,  he  practised  the  sand-bag  fake,  in  the  J  ago. 
For  there  were  those  among  the  Jagos  who  kept 
(two  even  bred)  linnets  and  such  birds,  and  pre- 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  277 

pared  them  for  julking,  or  singing  matches  at  the 
Bag  of  Nails.  It  was  the  habit  of  the  bird- 
fanciers  to  hang  their  little  wooden  cages  on  nails 
out  of  window,  and  there  they  hung  through  the 
night:  for  it  had  been  noted,  as  a  surprising 
peculiarity  in  linnets,  that  a  bird  would  droop  and 
go  off  song  after  a  dozen  or  so  of  nights  in  a  Jago 
room,  in  company  with  eight,  ten  or  a  dozen 
human  sleepers,  notwithstanding  the  thoughtful 
shutting  of  windows.  So  that  any  early  riser 
provided  with  a  little  bag  packed  with  a  handful 
or  so  of  sand,  could  become  an  opulent  bird- 
owner  in  half-an-hour.  Let  but  the  sand-bag  be 
pitched  with  proper  skill  at  the  bottom  of  a 
cage,  and  that  cage  would  leave  the  nail,  and 
come  tumbling  and  fluttering  down  into  the 
ready  hands  of  the  early  riser.  The  sand-bag 
brought  down  the  cage  and  fell  quietly  on  the 
flags,  which  was  why  it  was  preferred  before  a 
stone.  The  sand-bag  faker  was  moved  by  no 
particular  love  of  linnets.  His  spoil  was  got  rid 
of  as  soon  as  the  bird-shops  opened  in  Club  Row. 
And  his  craft  was  one  of  danger. 

Thus   the   months   went   with   Dicky,  and   the 


278  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

years.     There   were   changes    in    the   J  ago.     The 
baby   was    but    three    months    old  when    Father 
Sturt's    new   church   was    opened,   and    the   club 
set  going  in  new  buildings;  and  it  was   at   that 
time  that  Josh  Pcrrott  was  removed  to  Portland. 
Even    the    gradual     removal    of   the    Old    Jago 
itself  was  begun.     For  the  County  Council  bought 
a  row   of  houses   at   the   end   of  Jago  Row,  by 
Honey     Lane,     with    a    design     to     build     big 
barrack  dwellings  on  the  site.     The  scenes  of  the 
Jago    Court    eviction    were    repeated,   with    less 
governed  antics.     For  the  County  Council  knew 
not    Jago    ways  ;    and    when    deputations    came 
foith    weeping,    protesting    the    impossibility    of 
finding   new   lodgings,  and  beseeching  a  respite, 
they    were    given    six    weeks    more,   and    went 
back  delighted  into   free  quarters.      At   the   end 
of  the   six    weeks  a  larger   deputation  protested 
a   little    louder,   wept    a    great    deal    more,    and 
poached    another    month ;    for    it     would     seem 
an   unpopular  thing  to  turn  the  people  into  the 
street.     Thus    in    the    end,    when    the     unpopular 
thing   had    to    be    done,   it   was   with    sevenfold 
trouble,  loud   cursing   of  the  County  Council  in 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  279 

the  public  street,  and  many  fights.  But  this  one 
spot  of  the  Jago  cleared,  the  County  Council 
began  to  creep  along  Jag®  Row  and  into  Half 
Jago  Street ;  and  after  long  delay  the  crude 
yellow  brick  of  the  barrack  dwellings  rose  above 
the  oft  -  stolen  hoardings,  and  grew,  storey  by 
storey.  Dicky  was  fourteen,  fifteen,  sixteen. 
If  Josh  Perrott  had  only  earned  his  marks,  he 
would  soon  be  out  now. 


XXX 

JOSH  PERROTT  earned  his  marks,  and 
in  less  than  four  years  from  his  conviction 
he  came  away  from  Portland.  It  was  a 
mere  matter  of  hours  ere  his  arrival  in  London, 
when  Dicky,  hands  in  pockets,  strolled  along 
Old  Jago  Street,  and  by  the  'Posties'  to  High 
Street. 

Dicky  was  almost  at  his  seventeenth  birthday. 
He  had  grown  his  utmost,  and  stood  five  feet 
two.  He  wore  a  cap  with  a  cloth  peak  and 
ear-laps  tied  at  the  top  with  strings,  slap-up 
kicksies,  cut  saucy,  and  a  bob-tail  coat  of  the 
out-and-out  description :  though  all  these  glories 
were  torn  and  shabby,  and  had  been  bought 
second-hand.  He  was  safe  from  any  risk  of 
the  reformatory  now,  being  well  over  the  age; 
and  he   had   had    the   luck    never   to   have   been 

taken   by   the   police    since   his   father's    lagging 

280 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  281 

— though  there  were  escapes  too  narrow  to  be 
thought  about  with  comfort.  It  was  a  matter  for 
wonderment,  and  he  spoke  of  it  with  pride.  Here 
he  was,  a  man  of  long  experience,  and  near 
seventeen  years  old,  yet  he  had  never  been  in 
prison.  Few,  very  few  of  such  an  age  could 
say  that. 

Sometimes  he  saw  his  old  enemy,  the 
hunchback,  who  worked  at  a  shoemaker's,  but 
he  saw  him  with  unconcern.  He  cared 
nothing  for  tale  -  bearing  now.  The  memory 
of  old  injuries  had  dulled,  and,  after  all,  this  was 
a  merely  inconsiderable  hunchback,  whom  it  were 
beneath  his  dignity  to  regard  with  anything 
but  tolerant  indifference.  Bob  Roper  steered 
clear  at  such  encounters,  and  showed  his  teeth 
like  a  cat,  and  looked  back  malevolently.  It 
didn't  matter. 

Dicky  was  not  married,  either  in  the  simple 
Jago  fashion  or  in  church.  There  was  little 
difference,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  so  far  as  facility 
went.  There  was  a  church  in  Bethnal  Green 
where  you  might  be  married  for  sevenpence 
if  you  were  fourteen  years  old,  and  no  questions 


282  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

asked  —  or  at  any  rate  they  were  questions 
answers  whereunto  were  easy  to  invent.  You 
just  came  in,  drunk  if  possible,  with  a  batch 
of  some  scores,  and  rowdied  about  the  church 
with  your  hat  on,  and  the  curate  worked  off 
the  crowd  at  one  go,  calling  the  names  one 
after  another.  You  sang,  or  you  shouted,  or  you 
drank  out  of  a  bottle,  or  you  flung  a  prayer-book 
at  a  friend,  as  the  fancy  took  you ;  and  the  whole 
thing  was  not  a  bad  joke  for  the  money, 
though  after  all  sevenpence  is  half-a-gallon,  and 
not  to  be  wasted.  But  Dicky  had  had  enough 
to  do  to  look  after  his  mother  and  Em  and 
little  Josh — as  Hannah  Perrott  had  called  the 
baby.  Dicky,  indeed,  had  a  family  already. 
More :  the  Jago  girls  affected  him  with  an  odd 
feeling  of  repulsion.  Not  of  themselves,  perhaps, 
though  they  were  squalid  drabs  long  ere  they 
were  ripe  for  the  sevenpenny  church :  but 
by  comparison  with  the  clean,  remote  shop- 
girls who  were  visible  through  the  broad 
windows  in  the  outer  streets. 

Dicky    intended    the    day   to   be    a    holiday. 
He  was  not   going  'out,'  as   the  word   went,  for 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  283 

ill-luck  had  a  way  of  coming  on  notable  days 
like  this,  and  he  might  easily  chance  to  '  fall ' 
before  his  father  got  home.  He  was  almost 
too  big  now  for  carrying  bags  at  Liverpool 
Street,  because  small  boys  looked  cheaper  than 
large  ones — not  that  there  was  anything  especi- 
ally large  about  Dicky,  beyond  his  height  of 
five  feet  two ;  and  at  the  moment  he  could 
think  of  nothing  else  that  might  turn  a 
copper.  He  stood  irresolute  on  the  High 
Street  footway,  and  as  he  stood,  Kiddo  Cook 
hove  in  sight,  dragging  a  barrow-load  of  carrots 
and  cabbages.  Kiddo  had  not  yet  compassed 
the  stall  with  the  rain-proof  awning.  But  it 
was  almost  in  sight,  for  the  barrow  could  scarce 
hold  all  that  he  could  sell ;  and  there  was  a 
joke  abroad  that  he  was  to  be  married  in 
Father  Sturt's  church :  some  facetiously  sug- 
gesting that  Mother  Gapp  would  prove  a  good 
investment  commercially,  while  others  maintained 
the  greater  eligibility  of  old  Poll  Rann. 

"Tcheer,  Dicky  1'  said  Kiddo,  pulling  up 
and  wiping  his  cap-lining  with  a  red  cotton 
handkerchief.     '01'  man  out  to-day,  ain't  'e?' 


284  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

'  Yus,'  Dicky  answered.  *'Spect  'im  up  to-night' 
Kiddo  nodded,  and  wiped  his  face.  '  'Spose  the 
mob  '11  git  up  a  break  for  'im,'  he  said  ;  '  but  'e'll 
'ave  a  bit  o'  gilt  from  stir  as  well,  won't  'e  ?  So 
'e'll  be  awright.'  And  Kiddo  stuffed  his  handker- 
chief into  his  trousers  pocket,  pulled  his  cap  tight, 
and  bent  to  his  barrow-handles. 

Dicky  turned  idly  to  the  left,  and  slouched  to  the 
corner  of  Meakin  Street.  There  he  loafed  for  a 
little  while,  and  then  went  as  aimlessly  up  the 
turning,  Meakin  Street  was  much  as  ever.  There 
were  still  the  chandlers'  shops,  where  tea  and  sugar 
were  sold  by  the  farthingsworth,  and  the  barber's 
where  hair  was  fashionably  cut  for  three  halfpence : 
though  Jago  hair  was  commonly  cut  in  another 
place  and  received  little  more  attention.  There 
was  still  Walker's  cook-shop,  foggy  with  steam,  its 
windows  all  a-trickle,  and  there  was  the  Original 
Slap-up  Tog  Emporium,  with  its  kicksies  and  its 
benjamins  cut  saucy  as  ever,  and  its  double  fake- 
ments still  artful.  At  the  '  dispensary '  there  was 
another  young  student,  but  his  advice  and  medicine 
were  sixpence,  just  as  his  remote  predecessor's  had 
been  for  little  Looey,  long  forgotten.     And  farther 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  285 

down  on  the  opposite  side,  Mr  Aaron  Weech's 
coffee-shop,  with  its  Sunday-school  festival  bills, 
maintained  its  general  Band-of-Hope  air,  and  dis- 
played its  shrivelled  bloaters,  its  doubtful  cake,  and 
its  pallid  scones  in  an  odour  of  respectability  and 
stale  pickles.  Dicky  glanced  in  as  he  came  by  the 
door,  and  met  the  anxious  eye  of  Mr  Weech,  whom 
he  had  not  seen  for  a  fortnight.  For  Dicky  was 
no  boy  now,  but  knew  enough  to  sell  at  Cohen's 
or  elsewhere  whenever  possible,  and  to  care  not 
a  rap  for  Mr  Weech. 

As  that  tradesman  saw  Dicky,  he  burst  into  an 
eager  smile,  and  came  forward.  'Good  mornin', 
— er — '  with  a  quick  glance — '  Mr  Perrott !  Good 
mornin' 1     You're  quite  a  stranger,  reely  ! ' 

Mister  Perrott !  Mr  Weech  was  very  polite. 
Dicky  stopped,  and  grunted  a  cautious  salutation. 

*  Do  come  in,  Mr  Perrott.  Wy,  is  the  good  noos 
right  wot  I  'ear,  about  yer  father  a-comin'  'ome 
from — from  the  country?' 

Dicky  confirmed  the  news. 

'  Well  I  am  glad  t'  'ear  that  now.'  Mr  Weech 
grinned  exceedingly,  though  there  was  something 
lacking  in  his  delight.     *  But  there,  wot'll  you  'ave, 


286  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Mr  Perrott?  Say  anythink  in  the  'ole  shop  and 
welcome  !  Il's  sich  an  'appy  occasion,  Mr  Perrott, 
I  couldn't  think  o'  chargin'  you  a  'apeny.  'Ave  a 
rasher,  now,  do.  There's  one  on  at  this  very 
moment.     Sairer!    ain't  that  rasher  done  yut?' 

Dicky  did  not  understand  this  liberality,  but  he 
had  long  since  adopted  the  policy  of  taking 
all  he  could  get.  So  he  sat  at  a  table,  and  Mr 
Weech  sat  opposite. 

*Jist  like  ole  times,  ain't  it?'  said  Mr  Weech. 
'An'  that  reminds  me  I  owe  you  a  shillin'.  It's 
that  pair  o'  noo  boots  you  chucked  over  the  back 
fence  a  fortnight  ago.  Wen  I  come  to  look  at  'em, 
they  was  better'n  wot  I  thought,  an'  so  I  says  to 
meself,  "  This  won't  do,"  says  I.  "  On'y  ninepence 
for  a  pair  o'  boots  like  them  ain't  fair,"  I  says,  "  an' 
I'd  rayther  be  at  a  lawss  on  'em  than  not  be  fair. 
Fair's  fair,  as  the  apostle  David  says  in  the  Pro- 
verbs, an'  them  boots  is  worth  very  near  07te-an'- 
nine.  So  I'll  give  Mr  Perrott  another  shillin',"  I 
says,  "the  very  next  time  I  see  'im."  An'  there 
it  is.' 

He  put  the  shilling  on  the  table,  and  Dicky 
pocketed  it,  nothing    loth.      The  thing  might  be 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  2S7 

hard  to  understand,  but  that  concerned  him 
not.  There  was  the  shilling.  Likewise,  there  was 
the  bacon,  and  the  coffee  that  went  with  it, 
and  Dicky  went  at  them  with  a  will,  recking 
nothing  of  why  they  were  there,  and  nothing  of 
any  matter  which  might  make  the  giver  anxious 
in  the  prospect  of  an  early  meeting  with  Josh. 

'  Ah,'  Mr  Weech  went  on,  '  it'll  be  quite  a  plea- 
sure to  see  yer  father  agin,  that  it  will.  Wot  a 
blessed  release  !  "  Free  from  the  lor  O  'appy  con- 
dition," as  the  'ymn  says.  I  'ope  'e'il  be  well  an' 
'arty.  An'  if — if  there  should  be  anythink  in  the 
way  of  a  friendly  lead  or  a  subscription  or  wot 
not,  I  'ope — remember  this,  Mr  Perrott,  won'tcher  ? 
— I  'ope  you'll  let  me  'ave  a  chance  to  put  down 
somethink  good.  Not  as  I  can  reely  afford  it,  ye 
know,  Mr  Perrott — trade's  very  pore,  an'  it's  sich  a 
neighb'r'ood  ! — but  I'll  do  it  for  yer  father — yus, 
if  it's  me  last  copper.  Ye  won't  forgit  that,  will 
ye  ?  An'  if  'e'd  like  any  little  relish  w'en  'e  comes 
'ome — sich  as  a  'addick  or  a  bit  o'  'am — wy,  I'll 
wrop  it  up  an'  send  it' 

This  was  all  very  handsome,  and  Dicky  wished 
some  notion  of  the  sort  had  occurred  to  Mr  Weech 


288  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

on  a  few  of  the  dinnerless  days  of  the  pai;t  four 
years.  But  he  went  away  wondering  if  it  might 
not  be  well  to  regard  Mr  Weech  with  caution 
for  a  while.  For  there  must  be  a  reason  for  all 
this  generosity. 


XXXI 

IT  was  in  Mother  Gapp's  that  Josh  Perrott 
and  his  family  met.  Hannah  had  started 
out  with  an  idea  of  meeting  him  at  Waterloo 
Station ;  but,  finding  herself  an  object  of  dis- 
tinction and  congratulation  among  the  women 
she  met,  she  had  lingered  by  the  way,  accepting 
many  little  drops,  to  prove  herself  not  un- 
duly proud,  and  so  had  failed  of  her  intent. 
Josh,  on  his  part,  had  not  been  abstinent.  He 
had  successfully  run  the  gauntlet  of  Prisoners' 
Aid  Societies  and  the  like,  professing  to  have 
'  a  job  waiting  for  him  '  in  Shoreditch,  and  his 
way  across  London  had  been  freely  punctuated 
at  public-houses ;  for  his  prison  gratuity  was 
a  very  pleasant  and  useful  little  sum.  And 
now,  when  at  last  they  met,  he  was  not 
especially  gracious.  He  wanted  to  know,  not 
T  289 


290  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

only  why  he  had  found  nobody  at  home,  but 
also  why  Hannah  had  never  been  to  see  him 
at  Portland.  As  to  the  second  question,  the 
obvious  and  sufficient  answer  was  that  the 
return  fare  to  Portland  would  have  been  some 
twenty-five  shillings  :  a  sum  that  Hannah  had 
never  seen  together  since  Josh  left  her.  As 
to  the  first,  she  protested,  with  muddled 
vehemence,  that  she  had  gone  to  meet  him, 
and  had  missed  him  by  some  mistake  as  to 
arrival  platforms.  So  that  at  length,  urged 
thereto  by  the  rest  of  the  hour's  customers  at 
the  Feathers,  Josh  kissed  her  sulkily  and 
ordered  her  a  drink.  Em  was  distrustful  at 
first,  but  drank  her  allowance  of  gin  with 
much  relish,  tipping  the  glass  again  and  again 
to  catch  the  last  drop ;  and  little  Josh,  now  for 
the  first  time  introduced  to  Josh  the  elder,  took 
a  dislike  to  his  father's  not  particularly  sober 
glare  and  grin,  and  roared  aloud  upon  his  knee, 
assailing  him,  between  the  roars,  with  every 
curse  familiar  in  the  Jago,  amid  the  genial 
merriment  of  the  company.  Dicky  came  in 
quietly,   and    stood    at    his    father's    elbow    with 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  291 

the  pride  natural  to  a  dutiful  son  on  such  an 
occasion.  And  at  closing-time  they  all  helped 
each  other  home. 

In  the  morning  Josh  rose  late.  He  looked 
all  the  better  for  his  lagging,  browner  than 
ever  in  the  face,  smarter  and  stouter.  In  a 
corner  he  perceived  a  little  heap  of  made 
match-boxes,  and,  hard  by,  the  material  for 
more.  It  was  Em's  work  of  yesterday  morn- 
ing. '  Support  'ome  indz/j-teries,'  said  Josh,  mus- 
ingly. '  Yus.  Twopence-farden  a  gross.'  And  he 
kicked  the  heap  to  splinters. 

He  strolled  out  into  the  street,  to  survey  the 
Jago.  In  the  bulk  it  was  little  changed, 
though  the  County  Council  had  made  a  dif- 
ference in  the  north-east  corner,  and  was 
creeping  farther  and  farther  still.  The  dispos- 
sessed Jagos  had  gone  to  infect  the  neigh- 
bourhoods across  the  border,  and  to  crowd  the 
people  a  little  closer.  They  did  not  return  to 
live  in  the  new  barrack-buildings ;  which  was 
a  strange  thing,  for  the  County  Council  was 
charging  very  little  more  than  double  the 
rents  which   the  landlords  of  the  Old  Jago  had 


292  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

charged.  And  so  another  Jago,  teeming  and 
villainous  as  the  one  displaced,  was  slowly 
growing,  in  the  form  of  a  ring,  round  about 
the  great  yellow  houses.  But  the  new  church 
and  its  attendant  buildings  most  took  Josh's 
notice.  They  were  little  more  than  begun 
when  last  he  walked  Old  Jago  Street  in  day- 
light, and  now  they  stood,  large  and  healthy 
amid  the  dens  about  them,  a  wonder  and  a 
pride.  As  he  looked,  Jerry  GuUen  and  Bill 
Rann   passed. 

'  Wayo,  brother-in-law  ! '  sang  out  Bill  Rann, 
who  remembered  the  Old  Bailey  fiction  of 
four  years  back,  and  thought  it  a  capital  joke. 

'Nice  sort  o'  thing,  ain't  it?'  said  Jerry 
Gullen  with  indignant  sarcasm,  jerking  his 
thumb  toward  the  new  church.  *  The  street's 
clean  ruined.  Wot's  the  good  o'  livin'  'ere 
now?  Wy,  a  man  mustn't  even  do  a  click, 
blimy!' 

'  An'  doncher  ? '  asked  Josh  with  a  grin. 
Hereat  another  grin  broke  wide  on  Jerry 
Gullen's  face,  and  he  went  his  way  with  a 
wink  and  a  whistle. 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  293 

*  And  so  you're  back  again,  Josh  Perrott ! ' 
said  old  Beveridge,  seedier  than  ever,  with  the 
'Hard  Up'  fresh  chalked  on  the  changeless  hat. 
*  Back  again  !  Pity  you  couldn't  stay  there,  isn't 
it  ?     Pity  we  can't  all  stay  there.' 

Josh  looked  after  the  gaunt  old  figure  with 
much  doubt  and  a  vague  indignation :  for  such 
a  view  was  foreign  to  his  understanding.  And 
as  he  looked  Father  Sturt  came  out  of  the 
church,  and   laid  his  hand  on  Josh's  shoulder. 

'  What ! '  exclaimed  the  vicar,  '  home  again 
without  coming  to  see  me  !  But  there,  you  must 
have  been  coming.  I  hope  you  haven't  been 
knocking  long  ?  Come  in  now,  at  any  rate. 
You're  looking  wonderfully  well.  What  a  capital 
thing  a  holiday  is,  isn't  it — a  good  long  one  ? ' 
Taking  Josh  by  the  arm  he  hauled  him, 
grinning,  sheepish  and  almost  blushing,  toward 
the  club  door.  And  at  that  moment  Sam  Cash 
came  hurrying  round  Luck  Row  corner,  with  his 
finger  through  a  string,  and  on  that  string  a 
bunch  of  grouse. 

'  Dear  me,'  said  Father  Sturt,  turning  back, 
but   without   releasing   Josh's  arm.      '  Here's   our 


294  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

dear  friend,  Sam  Cash,  taking  home  something 
for  his  lunch.  Come,  Sam,  with  such  a  fine  lot 
of  birds  as  that,  I'm  sure  you'll  be  proud  to  tell 
us  where  they  came  from.      Eh?' 

For  a  moment  Sam  Cash  was  a  trifle  puzzled, 
even  offended.  Then  there  fell  over  his  face  the 
mask  of  utter  inexpression  which  the  vicar  had 
learned  to  know.  Said  Sam  Cash,  stolidly:  'I 
bin  'avin'  a  little  shootin'  with  a  friend.' 

'  Dear,  dear,  what  a  charming  friend  !  And  where 
are  his  moors?  Nowhere  about  the  Bethnal 
Green  Road,  I  suppose,  by  the  goods  depot? 
Come  now,  I'm  sure  Josh  Perrott  would  like  to 
know.  You  didn't  get  any  shooting  in  your 
little  holiday,  did  you,  Josh  ? '  Josh  grinned, 
delighted,  but  Sam  shuffled  uneasily,  with  a 
hopeless  sidelong  glance  as  in  search  of  a  hole 
wherein  to  hide.  '  Ah,  you  see,'  Father  Sturt  said, 
'he  doesn't  want  his  friend's  hospitality  to  be 
abused.  Let  me  see — two,  four,  six — why  there 
must  be  nine  or  ten  brace,  and  all  at  one  shot, 
too !  Sam  always  makes  his  bag  at  one  shot, 
you  know,  Josh,  whatever  the  game  is.  Yes, 
wonderful    shooting.      And   did    you    shoot    the 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  295 

label  at  the  same  time,  Sam  ?  Come,  I  should 
like  to  look  at  that  label  ! ' 

But  the  wretched  Sam  was  off  at  a  bolt,  faster 
than  a  police  pursuit  would  have  sent  him,  while 
Josh  guffawed  joyously.  To  be  'rotted'  by 
Father  Sturt  was  the  true  Jago  terror,  but 
to  the  Jagos  looking  on  it  was  pure  de- 
light. Theft  was  a  piece  of  the  Jago  nature ; 
but  at  least  Father  Sturt  could  wither  the 
pride  of  it  by  such  ridicule  as  the  Jago  could 
understand. 

'  There — he's  very  bashful  for  a  sportsman, 
isn't  he,  Josh  ?  '  the  vicar  proceeded.  '  But  you 
must  come  and  see  the  club  at  once.  You  shall 
be  a  member.' 

Josh  spent  near  an  hour  in  the  new  buildings. 
Father  Sturt  showed  him  the  club,  the  night 
shelter,  the  church,  and  his  own  little  rooms. 
He  asked,  too,  much  about  Josh's  intentions 
for  the  future.  Of  course,  Josh  was  'going 
to  look  for  a  job.'  Father  Sturt  knew  he 
would  say  that.  Every  Jago  had  been  going 
to  look  for  a  job  ever  since  the  vicar  first 
came   to   the   place.      But  he   professed   to   take 


296  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

Josh's  word  seriously,  and  offered  to  try  to  get 
him  taken  on  as  a  plasterer  at  some  of  the 
new  County  Council  buildings.  He  flattered 
Josh  by  reminding  him  of  his  command  of  a 
regular  trade.  Josh  was  a  man  with  opportuni- 
ties, and  he  should  be  above  the  pitiable 
expedients  of  the  poor  untradesmanlike  about 
him.  Indeed,  he  should  leave  the  Jago  altogether, 
with  his  family,  and  start  afresh  in  a  new  place, 
a  reputable  mechanic. 

To  these  things  Josh  Perrott  listened  with 
fidgety  deference,  answering  only  'Yus,  Father,' 
when  it  seemed  to  be  necessary.  In  the  end  he 
promised  to  *  think  it  over,'  which  meant  nothing, 
as  the  parson  well  knew.  And  in  the  mood  in 
which  Josh  came  away  he  would  gladly  have 
risked  another  lagging  to  serve  Father  Sturt's 
convenience;  but  he  would  rather  have  suffered 
one  than  take  Father  Sturt's  advice. 

He  made  the  day  a  holiday.  He  had  been 
told  that  he  was  in  for  a  little  excitement,  for 
it  was  held  that  fitting  time  had  arrived  for 
another  scrap  with  Dove  Lane  ;  but  the  affair 
was   not  yet   moving.      Snob  Spicer  had  broken 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  297 

a  window  with  a  Dove-Laner's  head,  it  was 
true,  but  nothing  had  come  of  it,  and  etiquette 
demanded  that  the  next  card  should  be  played 
by  Dove  Lane.  For  the  present,  the  Jago  was 
content  to  take  thought  for  Josh's  '  friendly 
lead.'  Such  a  thing  was  everybody's  right  on 
return  from  a  lagging,  and  this  one  was  fixed 
for  a  night  next  week. 

All  that  day  Mr  Weech  looked  out  anxiously, 
but  Josh  Perrott  never  passed  his  way. 


XXXII 

BILL  RANN  called  for  Josh  early  the  next 
morning,  and  they  strolled  down  Old  Jago 
Street  in  close  communion. 

'Are  you  on  for  a  job?'  asked  Bill.  ''Cos  I 
got  one  cut  an'  dried — a  topper,  an'  safe  as 
'ouses.' 

'Wot  sort  o'  job's  this?' 

*Wy  a  bust — unless  we  can  screw  it' 

This  meant  a  breaking-in,  with  a  possibility 
of  a  quieter  entrance  by  means  of  keys.  It  was 
unpleasantly  suggestive  of  Josh's  last  exploit, 
but  he  answered :  '  Awright.  Depends,  o' 
course.' 

*0,  it's   a   good    un.'      Bill    Rann   grinned  for 

no     obvious     reason,    and     slapped    his    leg    to 

express    rapturous    amusement.       '  It's     a     good 

un — you   can   take   yer   davy   o'   that.      I    bin    a 

298 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  299 

thinkin'  about  it  for  a  fortnight,  but  it  wants 
two.  Damme,  it's  nobby ! '  And  Bill  Rann 
grinned  again,  and  made  two  taps  of  a  step- 
dance.  '  Wotjer  think,'  he  pursued,  suddenly 
serious,  'wotjer  think  o'  screwin'  a  fence?' 

It  was  a  novel  notion,  but  in  Josh's  mind,  at 
first  flush,  it  seemed  unsportmanhke.  'Wot 
fence?'    asked  Josh. 

Bill  Rann's  grin  burst  wide  again.  He  bent 
low,  with  outstretched  chin,  and  stuck  his 
elbows  out  as  he  answered :  '  Wy,  ole  Weech ! ' 

Josh  bared  his  teeth — but  with  no  smile — 
looking  sharply  in  the  other's  upturned  face. 
Bill  Rann,  bent  nearly  double,  and  with  hands 
in  pockets,  flapped  his  arms  in  the  manner  of 
wings,  chuckled  aloud,  and,  jerking  his  feet 
back  and  forth,  went  elaborately  through  the 
first  movement  of  the  gallows-flap.  '  Eh  ?  eh  ?  ' 
said  he.     '  'Ow's  that  strike  ye,  ole  cock  ? ' 

Josh  answered  not,  but  his  parted  lips 
stretched  wide,  and  his  tongue-tip  passed  quickly 
over  them  while  he  thought. 

'  It'll  be  a  fair  cop  for  'im,'  Bill  pursued, 
eagerly.       "E's     treated      us     all     pretty    mean, 


3od  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

one  time  or  other.  Wy,  I  bet  'e  owes  us  fifty 
quid  atween  us,  wot  with  all  the  times  'e's 
squeeged  us  for  a  bit.  It'll  on'y  be  goin'  to 
bring  away  our  0\vn  stuff!' 

'G-r-r-r!'  Josh  growled,  glaring  fiercely;  'it 
was  'im  as  put  me  away  for  my  laggin' ! 
Bleed'n'  swine ! ' 

Bill  Rann  stopped,  surprised.  '  Wot — 'im  ? ' 
he  exclaimed.  'Ole  Weech  narked  ye?  'Ow- 
jer  know  that?' 

Josh  told  the  tale  of  his  negotiations  in  the 
matter  of  the  Mogul's  watch,  and  described 
Weech's  terror  at  sight  of  his  dash  at  the 
shop-door.  '  I'm  on,'  said  Josh  in  conclusion. 
'  It's  one  way  o'  payin'  'im,  an'  it'll  bring  a  bit 
in.  On'y  'e  better  not  show  'isself  w'ile  I'm 
abaat!  'E  wouldn't  git  auf  with  a  punch  on 
the  chin,  like  the  bloke  at  'Ighbury!'  Josh 
Perrott  ended  with  a  tigerish  snarl  and  a  white 
spot  at  the  curl  of  each  of  his  nostrils. 

'Blimy!'  said  Bill  Rann;  'an'  so  it  was  'im, 
was  it  ?  I  often  wondered  'oo  you  meant. 
Well,  flimpin'  'im's  the  best  way.  Won't  'e 
sing     a     bleed'n'    'ymn    w'en    'e    finds    'is    stuff 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  301 

weeded ! '  Bill  flung  back  his  head,  and  laughed 
again.  'But  there, — let's  lay  it  out'  And  the 
two  men  fell  to  the  discussion  of  methods. 

Weech's  back-fence  was  to  be  his  undoing.  It 
was  the  obvious  plan.  The  front  shutters  were 
impracticable  in  such  a  place  as  Meakin 
Street ;  but  the  alleys  in  the  rear  were 
a  perfect  approach.  Bill  Rann  had  surveyed 
the  spot  attentively,  and,  after  expert  con- 
sideration, he  had  selected  the  wash-house 
window  as  the  point  of  entrance.  Old  boxes 
and  packing-wood  littered  the  yard,  and  it 
would  be  easy  to  mount  a  selected  box,  shift 
the  catch  of  the  little  window,  and  wriggle  in, 
feet  first,  without  noise.  True,  the  door  be- 
tween the  wash-house  and  the  other  rooms 
might  be  fastened,  but  it  could  be  worked  at 
under  cover;  and  Bill  Rann  had  a  belief  that 
there  must  be  a  good  deal  of  'stuff'  in  the 
wash-house  itself.  There  would  be  nobody  in 
the  house  but  Weech,  because  the  wretched 
old  woman,  who  swept  the  floors  and  cooked 
bloaters,  was  sent  away  at  night ;  so  that  every 
room  must  be  unoccupied  but  one. 


302  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

As  for  tools,  Josh  had  none,  but  Bill  Rann 
undertook  to  provide  them ;  and  in  the  matter 
of  time  it  was  considered  that  that  same  night 
would  be  as  good  as  any.  It  would  be  better 
than  most,  in  fact,  for  it  was  Wednesday,  and  Bill 
Rann  had  observed  that  Mr  Weech  went  to  the 
bank  in  High  Street,  Shoreditch,  pretty  regularly 
on  Thursday  mornings. 

This  day  also  Mr  Weech  kept  a  careful  watch 
for  Josh  Perrott,  but  saw  him  not. 


XXXIII 

HANNAH  PERROTT  did  her  best  to 
keep  Josh  from  going  out  that  night. 
She  did  not  explain  her  objections,  because  she 
did  not  know  precisely  what  they  were,  though 
they  were  in  some  sort  prompted  by  his  manner ; 
and  it  was  solely  because  of  her  constitutional 
inability  to  urge  them  with  any  persistence  that 
she  escaped  forcible  retort.  For  Josh  was  in  a 
savage   and  self-centred  mood. 

*  Wy,  wot's  up  ? '  asked  Bill  Rann,  when  they 
met,  looking  doubtfully  in  his  pal's  face.  '  You 
ain't  bin  boozin',  'ave  ye  ? ' 

Josh  repelled  the  question  with  a  snarl.  '  No 
I  ain't,'  he  said.  '  Got  the  tools  ? '  There  was 
a  thickness  in  his  voice,  with  a  wildness  in  his 
eye,  that  might  well  explain  his  partner's  doubt. 

*  Yus.     Come  under  the  light.     I  couldn't  git  no 

303 


304  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

twirls,  an'  we  sha'n't  want  'em.  'Ere's  a  screw- 
driver, an'  two  gimlets,  an'  a  knife  for  the  winder- 
ketch,  an'  a  little  james,  an'  a  neddy— ' 

*A  neddy!'  Josh  cut  in,  scornfully  pointing 
his  thumb  at  the  instrument,  which  some  call 
life-preserver.  'A  neddy  for  Weech!  G-r-r-r! 
I  might  take  a  neddy  to  a  man  ! ' 

'That's  awright,'  Bill  replied.  'But  it  'ud 
frighten  'im  pretty  well,  wouldn't  it  ?  Look  'ere. 
S'pose  we  can't  find  the  oof.  W'y  shouldn't  we 
wake  up  Mr  Weech  very  quiet  an'  respeckful,  an' 
ask  'im  t'  'elp  us?  'E's  all  alone,  an'  I'm  sure  'e'll 
be  glad  to  'blige,  w'en  'e  sees  this  'ere  neddy, 
without  waitin'  for  a  tap.  W'y,  blimy,  I  b'lieve 
'e'd  be  afraid  to  sing  out  any'ow,  for  fear  o' 
bringin'  in  the  coppers  to  find  all  the  stuff  'e's 
bought  on  the  crook!  It's  all  done,  once  we're 
inside ! ' 

It  was  near  midnight,  and  Bill  Rann  had  ob- 
served Weech  putting  up  his  shutters  at  eleven. 
So  the  two  Jagos  walked  slowly  along  Meakin 
Street,  on  the  side  opposite  Weech's,  with  sharp 
eyes  for  the  windows. 

All   was   quiet ;    there    was   no   visible   light — 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  305 

none  from  the  skylight  over  the  shop  door,  none 
from  the  window  above,  none  from  the  garret 
window  above  that.  They  passed  on,  crossed  the 
road,  strolled  back,  and  listened  at  the  door ; 
there  was  no  sound  from  within.  The  clock  in  a 
distant  steeple  struck  twelve,  and  was  joined  at  the 
fourth  stroke  by  the  loud  bell  of  St  Leonards,  hard 
by ;  and  ere  the  last  mild  note  had  sounded  from 
the  farthest  clock  in  the  awakened  chorus,  Josh 
Perrott  and  Bill  Rann  had  taken  the  next  turning, 
and  were  pushing  their  way  to  the  alleys  behind 
Weech's. 

Foul  rat-runs,  these  alleys,  not  to  be  traversed 
by  a  stranger.  Josh  and  Bill  plunged  into 
one  narrow  archway  after  another,  each  of 
which  might  have  been  the  private  passage  of 
a  house,  and  came  at  last,  stealthy  and  unseen, 
into  the  muddy  yard. 

Weech's  back  -  fence  was  before  them,  and 
black  house-backs  crowded  them  round.  There 
were  but  one  or  two  lights  in  the  windows, 
and  those  windows  were  shut  and  curtained. 
The  rear  of  Weech's  house  was  black  and 
silent  as  the  front.      They  peered  over  the  fence. 


3o6  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

The  yard  was  pitch-dark,  but  faint  angular 
tokens  here  and  there  told  of  heaped  boxes 
and  lumber.  *  We  won't  tip  'im  the  whistle  this 
time,'  whispered  Bill  Rann,  with  a  smothered 
chuckle.     *  Over  ! ' 

He  bent  his  knee,  and  Josh  straddled  from 
it  over  the  rickety  fence  with  quiet  care, 
and  lowered  himself  gingerly  on  the  other  side. 
'  Clear  'ere,'  he  whispered.  *  Come  on.'  Since 
Bill's  display  of  the  tools  Josh  had  scarce 
spoken  a  word.  Bill  wondered  at  his  taci- 
turnity, but  respected  it  as  a  business-like  quality 
in  the  circumstances. 

It  was  but  a  matter  of  four  or  five  yards  to 
the  wash-house  window,  but  they  bent  and  felt 
their  way.  Josh  took  up  an  old  lemonade- 
case  as  he  went,  and  planted  it  on  the 
ground  below  the  window,  stretching  his  hand 
for  the  knife  as  he  did  so.  And  now  he  took 
command  and  foremost  place. 

It  was  an  old  shoemaker's  knife,  with  too 
long  a  handle;  for  there  was  a  skew-joint  in  the 
sash,  and  the  knife  would  not  bend.  Presently 
Bill   Rann,  below,  could  see  that  Josh  was   cut- 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  307 

ting  away  the  putty  from  the  pane,  and  in  five 
minutes  the  pane  itself  was  put  into  his  hand.  He 
stooped,  and  laid  it  noiselessly  on  the  soft  ground. 

Josh  turned  the  catch  and  lifted  the  sash. 
There  was  some  noise,  but  not  much,  as  he 
pushed  the  frame  up  evenly,  with  a  thumb  at 
each  side.  They  waited  ;  but  it  was  quite  still, 
and  Josh,  sitting  on  the  sill,  manoeuvred  his  legs, 
one  at  a  time,  through  the  narrow  opening. 
Then,  turning  over,  he  let  himself  down,  and 
beckoned  Bill  Rann  to  follow. 

Bill  Rann  had  a  small  tin  box,  with  an  inch 
of  candle  on  the  inside  of  one  end,  so  that 
when  the  wick  was  lit  the  contrivance  made  a 
simple  but  an  effective  lantern,  the  light  whereof 
shone  in  front  alone,  and  could  be  extinguished 
at  a  puff.  Now  a  match  was  struck,  and  a  quick 
view  taken  of  the  wash-house. 

There  was  not  much  about ;  only  cracked  and 
greasy  plates,  jars,  tins,  pots  and  pans,  and  in 
a  corner  a  miscellaneous  heap,  plainly  cheap 
pilferings,  covered  with  a  bit  of  old  carpet. 
The  air  was  offensive  with  the  characteristic 
smell  of  Weech's — the  smell  of  stale  pickles. 


3o8  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

'There  ain't  nothin'  to  waste  time  over  'ere,' 
said  Josh,  aloud.     *  Come  on  ! ' 

'  Shut  up,  you  damn  fool  ! '  exclaimed  Bill 
Rann,  in  a  whisper.  'D'jer  want  to  wake 
'im?' 

*  Umph !  Why  not  ? '  was  the  reply,  still 
aloud.  Bill  began  to  feel  that  his  pal  was 
really  drunk.  But,  silent  once  more.  Josh  ap- 
plied himself  to  the  door  of  the  inner  room. 
It  was  crank  and  old,  worn  and  battered 
at  the  edges.  Josh  forced  the  wedge  end 
of  the  jemmy  through  the  jamb,  splintering 
the  perished  wood  of  the  frame,  and,  with 
a  push,  forced  the  striking-box  of  the  lock 
off  its  screws.  There  was  still  a  bolt  at  the 
top ;  that  at  the  bottom  had  lost  its  catch 
— but  this  gave  as  little  trouble  as  the  lock. 
Bill  Rann  strained  the  door  open  from  below, 
the  jemmy  entered  readily,  and  in  a  few 
seconds  the  top  bolt  was  in  like  case  with 
the  bottom. 

They  entered  the  room  behind  the  shop,  and 
it  was  innocent  and  disappointing.  A  loo  table, 
four    horse-hair-covered     chairs,    a   mirror,    three 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  309 

coloured  wall  -  texts,  two  china  figures  and  a 
cheap  walnut  sideboard  —  that  was  all.  The 
slow  step  of  a  policeman  without  stopped,  with 
a  push  at  the  shop-door,  to  test  its  fastenings, 
and  then  went  on  ;  and  stronger  than  ever 
was  the  smell  of  stale  pickles. 

To  try  the  shop  would  be  mere  waste  of 
time.  Wcech's  pocket  was  the  till,  and  there 
could  be  no  other  prize.  A  door  at  the  side 
of  the  room,  latched  simply,  gave  on  the  stairs. 
Take  auf  yer  boots,'  Bill  whispered,  unlacing 
his  own,  and  slinging  them  across  his  shoulder 
by  the  tied  laces. 

But  Josh  would  not,  and  he  said  so,  with  an 
oath.  Bill  could  not  understand  him.  Could 
it  be  drink  ?  Bill  wished  him  a  mile  away. 
*  Awright,'  he  whispered,  '  you  set  down  'ere 
w'ile  I  slip  upstairs  an'  take  a  peep.  I  bet  the 
stuff's  in  the  garret.     Best  on'y  one  goes,  quiet.' 

Josh  sat,  and  Bill,  taking  his  lantern,  crept  up 
the  stairs  noiselessly,  save  for  one  creak.  He 
gained  the  stair-head,  listened  a  moment,  tip- 
toed along  the  small  landing,  and  was  half-way 
up    the    steep    and     narrow    garret-stairs,    when 


3IO  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

he  heard  a  sound,  and  stopped.  Somebody 
was  on  the  lower  flight. 

There  was  a  heavy  tread,  with  the  kick  of  a 
boot  against  stair  or  skirting-board ;  and  then 
came  noisy  steps  along  the  landing.  Josh  was 
coming  up  in  his  boots!  Bill  Rann  was  at  his 
wits'  end.  He  backed  down  the  garret-stairs, 
and  met  Josh  at  the  foot.  'Are  ye  balmy?'  he 
hissed  fiercely,  catching  Josh  by  the  collar  and 
pulling  him  into  the  turn  of  the  stairs.  'D'ye 
want  another  five  stretch  ? ' 

A  loud  creak  and  a  soft  thump  sounded 
from  behind  the  door  at  the  other  end  of  the 
landing;  and  then  a  match  was  struck.  'Keep 
back  on  the  stairs,'  Bill  whispered.  "E's  'eard 
you.'  Josh  sat  on  a  stair,  perfectly  still,  with 
his  legs  drawn  up  out  of  sight  from  the  door. 
Bill  blew  out  his  light.  He  would  not  venture 
open  intimidation  of  Weech  now,  with  Josh  half 
muzzy,  lest  some  burst  of  lunacy  brought  in 
the  police. 

A  soft  treading  of  bare  feet,  the  squeak  of 
a  door-handle,  a  light  on  the  landing,  and 
Aaron    Weech    stood    at   his    open   door   in   his 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  311 

shirt,  candle  in  hand,  his  hair  rumpled,  his 
head  aside,  his  mouth  a  Httle  open,  his  uncon- 
scious gaze  upward ;  hstening  intently.  He  took 
a  slight  step  forward.  And  then  Bill  Rann's 
heart  turned  over  and  over. 

For  Josh  Perrott  sprang  from  the  stair,  and, 
his  shoulders  humped  and  his  face  thrust  out, 
walked  deliberately  across  the  landing.  Weech 
turned  his  head  quickly ;  his  chin  fell  on  his 
chest  as  by  jaw-break ;  there  were  but  dots 
amid  the  white  of  his  eyes ;  his  head  lay  slowly 
back,  as  the  candle  tilted  and  shot  its  grease 
on  the  floor.  The  door  swung  wider  as  his 
shoulder  struck  it,  and  he  screamed,  like  a  rabbit 
that  sees  a  stoat.  Then,  with  a  wrench,  he 
turned,  letting  drop  the  candle,  and  ran  shriek- 
ing to  the  window,  flung  it  open,  and  yelled 
into  the  black  street.  "Elp !  'Elp!  P'lice! 
Murder!     Murder!    Murder  I    Murder!* 

'  Run,  Josh — run,  ye  blasted  fool ! '  roared  Bill 
Rann,  bounding  across  the  landing,  and  snatching 
at  his  arm. 

'  Go  on — go  on  !  I'm  comin'  1 '  Josh  answered 
without   turning   his    head.      And    Bill   took   the 


312  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

bottom  flight  at  a  jump.  The  candle  flared  as 
it  lay  on  the  floor,  and  spread  a  greasy  pool 
about  it. 

'■Murder!    Murder!    Mu-r-r — ' 

Josh  had  the  man  by  the  shoulder,  swung 
him  back  from  the  window,  gripped  his  throat, 
and  dragged  him  across  the  carpet  as  he  might 
drag  a  cat,  while  Weech's  arms  waved  uselessly, 
and  his  feet  feebly  sought  a  hold  on  the  floor. 

'  Now ! '  cried  Josh  Perrott,  glaring  on  the 
writhen  face  below  his  own,  and  raising  his 
case-knife  in  the  manner  of  a  cleaver,  'sing  a 
hymn !  Sing  the  hymn  as  '11  do  ye  most  good ! 
You'll  cheat  me  when  ye  can,  an'  when  ye  can't 
you'll  put  me  five  year  in  stir,  eh?  Sing  a 
hymn,  ye  snivellin'  nark ! ' 

From  the  street  there  came  the  noise  of 
many  hurrying  feet  and  of  a  scattered  shout- 
ing. Josh  Perrott  made  an  offer  at  slashing 
the  slaty  face,  checked  his  arm,  and  went  on. 

'You'll  put  down  somethin'  'an'some  at  my 
break,  will  ye?  An'  you'll  starve  my  wife  an' 
kids  all  to  bones  an'  teeth  four  year !  Sing  a 
hymn,  ye  cur ! ' 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  313 

He  made  another  feint  at  slashing.  Men  were 
beating  thunderously  at  the  shop  door,  and 
there  were  shrill  whistles. 

'Won't  sing  yer  hymn?  There  ain't  much 
time !  My  boy  was  goin'  straight,  an'  earnin' 
wages :  someone  got  'im  chucked.  A  man  'as 
time  to  think  things  out,  in  stir  I  Sing,  ye  son 
of  a  cow  !     Sing  !     Sing  ! ' 

Twice  the  knife  hacked  the  livid  face.  But 
the  third  hack  was  below  the  chin  ;  and  the 
face  fell  back. 

The  bubbling  Thing  dropped  in  a  heap,  and 
put  out  the  flaring  candle.  Without,  the  shouts 
gathered  to  a  roar,  and  the  door  shook  under 
heavy  blows.  '  Open — open  the  door ! '  cried  a 
deep  voice. 

He  looked  from  the  open  window.  There 
was  a  scrambling  crowd,  and  more  people  were 
running  in.  Windows  gaped,  and  thrust  out 
noisy  heads.  The  flash  of  a  bull's-eye  dazzled 
him,  and  he  staggered  back.  '  Perrott !  Perrott ! ' 
came  a  shout.  He  had  but  glanced  out,  but 
he  was  recognised. 

He   threw  down    his   knife,  and  made   for  the 


314  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

landing,  slipping  on  the  wet  floor  and  stumbling 
against  the  Heap.  There  were  shouts  from 
behind  the  house  now ;  they  were  few,  but  they 
were  close.  He  dashed  up  the  narrow  stairs, 
floundered  through  the  back  garret,  over  bags 
and  boxes  and  heaps  of  mingled  commodities,  and 
threw  up  the  sash.  Men  were  stumbling  invisibly 
in  the  dark  yard  below.  He  got  upon  the  sill, 
swung  round  by  the  dormer-frame,  and  went, 
hands  and  knees,  along  the  roof.  Yells  and  loud 
whistles  rose  clamant  in  the  air,  and  his  own 
name  was  shouted  to  and  fro.  Then  the  blows 
on  the  shop  -  door  ceased  with  a  splintering 
crash,  and  there  was  a  trampling  of  feet  on 
floor-boards. 

The  roofs  were  irregular  in  shape  and  height, 
and  his  progress  was  slow.  He  aimed  at  reaching 
the  roof  of  Father  Sturt's  old  club  building,  still 
empty.  He  had  had  this  in  mind  from  the 
moment  he  climbed  from  the  garret-window; 
for  in  the  work  of  setting  the  drains  in  order 
an  iron  ventilating  pipe  had  been  carried  up 
from  the  stable-yard  to  well  above  the  roof.  It 
was  a  stout  pipe,  close  by  the  wall,  to  which  it 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  315 

was  clamped  with  iron  attachments.  Four  years 
had  passed  since  he  had  seen  it,  and  he  trusted 
to  luck  to  find  it  still  standing,  for  it  seemed 
his  only  chance.  Down  below  people  scampered 
and  shouted.  Crowds  had  sprung  out  of  the 
dark  night  as  by  magic ;  and  the  police — they 
must  have  been  lying  in  wait  in  scores.  It 
seemed  a  mere  matter  of  seconds  since  he  had 
scaled  the  back  fence ;  and  now  people  were 
tearing  about  the  house  behind  him,  and  shout- 
ing out  of  windows  to  those  below.  He  hoped 
that  the  iron  pipe  might  not  be  gone. 

Good — it  was  there.  He  peered  from  the 
parapet  down  into  the  stable-yard,  and  the 
place  seemed  empty.  He  gripped  the  pipe  with 
hands  and  knees,  and  descended. 

The  alley  had  no  back  way:  he  must  take 
his  chance  in  Meakin  Street.  He  peeped.  At 
the  street  end  there  was  a  dark  obstruction,  set 
with  spots  of  light:  a  row  of  police.  That 
way  was  shut;  he  must  try  the  Jago — Luck 
Row  was  almost  opposite,  and  no  Jago  would 
betray  him.  The  hunters  were  already  on  the 
roofs.     Men  shouted  up  to  them  from  the  street, 


3i6  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

and  kept  pace  with  them,  coming  nearer.  He 
took  a  breath  and  dashed  across,  knocking  a 
man  over  at  the  corner. 

Up  Luck  Row,  into  Old  Jago  Street  he  ran, 
past  his  own  home,  and  across  to  a  black  door- 
way, just  as  Father  Sturt,  roused  by  the  persist- 
ent din,  opened  his  window.  The  passage  was 
empty,  and  for  an  instant  he  paused,  breathless. 
But  there  were  howls  without,  and  the  pelting  of 
many  feet.  The  man  knocked  over  at  the  corner 
had  given  the  alarm,  and  the  hunt  was  up. 

Into  the  back-yard  and  over  the  fence  ;  through 
another  passage  into  New  Jago  Street;  vi^ith  a 
notion  to  gain  the  courts  by  Honey  Lane  and 
so  away.  But  he  was  thinking  of  the  Jago  as 
it  had  been — he  had  forgotten  the  demolish- 
ment.  As  he  neared  Jago  Row  the  place  of 
it  lay  suddenly  before  him — an  open  waste  of 
eighty  yards  square,  skirted  by  the  straight 
streets  and  the  yellow  barracks,  with  the  Board 
School  standing  dark  among  them.  And  along 
the  straight  streets  more  men  were  rushing,  and 
more  police.  They  were  newcomers:  why  not 
venture   over?     He   rubbed  his  cheek,  for  some- 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  J  AGO  317 

thing  like  a  film  of  gum  clung  to  it.  Then  he 
remembered,  and  peered  closely  at  his  hands. 
Blood,  sticking  and  drying  and  peeling ;  blood 
on  hands  and  face,  blood  on  clothes,  without  a 
doubt.  To  go  abroad  thus  were  to  court  arrest, 
were  he  known  or  not.  It  must  be  got  off; 
but  how  ?  To  go  home  was  to  give  himself  up. 
The  police  were  there  long  since — they  swarmed 
the  Jago  through.  Some  half-dismantled  houses 
stood  at  hand,  and  he  made  for  the  nearest. 

There  were  cellars  under  these  houses,  reached 
from  the  back-yards.  Many  a  Jago  had  been 
born,  had  lived,  and  had  died  in  such  a  place. 
A  cellar  would  hide  him  for  an  hour,  while  he 
groped  himself  clean  as  he  might.  Broken 
brickwork  littered  the  space  that  had  been  the 
back-yard.  Feeling  in  the  dark  for  the  steps, 
which  stood  in  a  little  pit,  his  foot  turned  on  a 
stone,  and  he  pitched  headlong. 

The  cellar  itself  was  littered  with  rubbish,  and 
he  lay  among  it  a  little  while,  breathless  and 
bruised.  When  he  tried  to  rise,  he  found  his 
ankle  useless.  It  was  the  old  sprain,  got 
at     Mother     Gapp's     before     his     lagging,    and 


3i8  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

ever  ready  to  assert  itself.  He  sat  among  the 
brickbats  to  pull  off  the  boot — that  was  foul 
and  sticky  too — and  he  rubbed  the  ankle.  He 
had  been  a  fool  to  think  of  the  cellar:  why  not 
any  corner  among  the  walls  above?  He  had 
given  way  to  the  mere  panic  instinct  to  burrow, 
to  hide  himself  in  a  hole,  and  he  had  chosen  one 
wherefrom  there  was  no  second  way  of  escape 
— none  at  all  but  by  the  steps  he  had  fallen  in 
at.  Far  better  to  have  struck  out  boldly  across 
the  streets  by  Columbia  Market  to  the  canal: 
who  could  have  seen  the  smears  in  the  darkness  ? 
And  in  the  canal  he  might  have  washed  the  lot 
away,  secure  from  observation,  under  a  bridge. 
The  thing  might  be  possible,  even  now,  if  he 
could  stand  the  pain.  But  no,  the  foot  was 
useless  when  he  tried  it.  He  was  trapped  like 
a  rat.  He  rubbed  and  kneaded  the  ankle  dili- 
gently, and  managed  to  draw  the  boot  on. 
But  stand  on  both  legs  he  could  not.  He  might 
have  crawled  up  the  steps  on  hands  and 
knees,  but  what  was  the  use  of  that?  So  he 
sat,  and  waited. 

Knots    of    men    went    hurrying    by,    and    he 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  319 

caught  snatches  of  their  talk.  There  had 
been  a  murder — a  man  was  murdered  in  his 
bed — it  was  a  woman — a  man  had  murdered 
his  wife  —  there  were  two  murders  —  three  — 
the  tale  went  every  way,  but  it  was  always 
Murder,  Murder,  Murder.  Everybody  was  saying 
Murder:  till  in  the  passing  footsteps,  in  the 
vague  shouts  in  the  distance,  and  presently  in 
the  mere  black  about  him  he  heard  the  word 
still  —  Murder,  Murder,  Murder.  He  fell  to 
contrasting  the  whispered  fancy  with  the  real 
screams  in  that  bedroom.  He  wondered  what 
Bill  Rann  thought  of  it  all,  and  what  had  become 
of  the  James  and  the  gimlets.  He  pictured  the 
crowd  in  Old  Jago  Street,  pushing  into  his  room, 
talking  about  him,  telling  the  news.  He  wondered 
if  Hannah  had  been  asleep  when  they  came,  and 
what  she  said  when  they  told  her.  And  more 
people  hurried  past  the  ruined  house,  all  talking 
Murder,  Murder,  still  Murder. 

The  foot  was  horribly  painful.  Was  it  swelling  ? 
Yes,  he  thought  it  was;  he  rubbed  it  again. 
What  would  Dicky  do  ?  If  only  Dicky  knew 
where  he  was  !     That  might  help.     There  was  a 


320  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

new  burst  of  shouts  in  the  distance.  What  was 
that  ?  Perhaps  they  had  caught  Bill  Rann  ; 
but  that  was  unlikely.  They  knew  nothing  of 
Bill — they  had  seen  but  one  man.  Perhaps  they 
were  carrying  away  the  Heap  on  a  shutter :  that 
would  be  no  nice  job,  especially  down  the  steep 
stairs.  There  had  been  very  little  in  the  wash- 
house,  and  nothing  in  the  next  room ;  the  garrets 
were  pretty  full  of  odd  things,  but  no  doubt  the 
money  was  in  the  bedroom.  The  smell  of  stale 
pickles  was  very  strong. 

So  his  thoughts  chased  one  another — eager, 
trivial,  crowded — till  his  head  ached  with  their 
splitting  haste.  To  take  heed  for  the  future,  to 
plan  escape,  to  design  expedients — these  were 
merely  impossible,  sitting  there  inactive  in  the 
dark.  He  thought  of  the  pipe  he  had  slid  down, 
what  it  cost,  why  they  put  it  there,  who  the  man 
was  that  he  ran  against  at  Luck  Row,  whether 
or  not  he  hurt  him,  what  the  police  would  do 
with  the  bloaters  and  cake  and  bacon  at  the 
shop,  and — again — of  the  smell  of  stale  pickles. 

Father    Sturt   was    up    and    dressed,   standing 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  321 

guard  on  the  landing  outside  the  Perrotts'  door. 
The  stairs  were  full  of  Jagos — mostly  women — 
constantly  joined  by  new-comers,  all  anxious  to 
batter  the  door  and  belabour  the  hidden  family 
with  noisy  sympathy  and  sedulous  inquiries : 
all,  that  is,  except  the  oldest  Mrs  Walsh  in  the 
Jago,  who,  possessed  by  an  unshakable  conviction 
that  Josh's  wife  must  have  'druv  'im  to  it,'  had 
come  in  a  shawl  and  a  petticoat  to  give  Hannah 
a  piece  of  her  mind.  But  all  were  driven  back 
and  sent  grumbling  away,  by  Father  Sturt. 

Every  passage  from  the  Jago  was  held  by  the 
police,  and  a  search  from  house  to  house  was 
begun.  With  clear  consciences  the  Jagos  all  could 
deny  any  knowledge  of  Josh  Perrott's  whereabouts  ; 
but  a  clear  conscience  was  little  valued  in  those 
parts,  and  one  after  another  affirmed  point  blank 
that  the  man  seen  at  the  window  was  not  Perrott 
at  all,  but  a  stranger  who  lived  a  long  way  off. 
This,  of  course,  less  by  way  of  favouring  the 
fugitive  than  of  baffling  the  police :  the  Jago's  first 
duty.  But  the  police  knew  the  worth  of  such 
talk,  and  the  search  went  on. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  in  the  grey  of  the 


322  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

morning  a  party  in  New  Jago  Street,  after  telling 
each  other  that  the  ruins  must  be  carefully 
examined,  climbed  among  the  rubbish,  and  were 
startled  by  a  voice  from  underground. 

'  Awright,'  cried  Josh  Perrott  in  the  cellar. 
'  I'm  done ;  it's  a  cop.  Come  an'  'elp  me  out 
o'  this  'ole.' 


XXXIV 

THE  Lion  and  Unicorn  had  been  fresh  gilt 
since  he  was  there  before,  but  the  white- 
headed  old  gaoler  in  the  dock  was  much  the 
same.  And  the  big  sword — what  did  they  have 
a  big  sword  for,  stuck  up  there,  over  the  red 
cushions,  and  what  was  the  use  of  a  sword  six 
foot  long?  But  perhaps  it  wasn't  six  foot  after 
all — it  looked  longer  than  it  was;  and  no  doubt 
it  was  only  for  show,  and  probably  a  dummy 
with  no  blade.  There  was  a  well-dressed  black 
man  sitting  down  below  among  the  lawyers. 
What  did  he  want  ?  Why  did  they  let  him  in  ? 
A  nice  thing — to  be  made  a  show  of,  for  niggers  ! 
And  Josh  Perrott  loosened  his  neckcloth  with 
an  indignant  tug  of  the  forefinger,  and  went 
off  into  another  train  of  thought.  He  had  a 
throbbing,    wavering    headache,  the    outcome    of 

323 


324  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

thinking  so  hard  about  so  many  things.  They 
were  small  things,  and  had  nothing  to  do  with 
his  own  business ;  but  there  were  so  many  of 
them,  and  they  all  had  to  be  got  through  at 
such  a  pace,  and  one  thing  led  to  another. 

Ever  since  they  had  taken  him  he  had  been 
oppressed  by  this  plague  of  galloping  thought, 
with  few  intervals  of  rest,  when  he  could  con- 
sider immediate  concerns.  But  of  these  he  made 
little  trouble.  The  thing  was  done.  Very  well 
then,  he  would  take  his  gruel  like  a  man.  He 
had  done  many  a  worse  thing,  he  said,  that  had 
been  thought  less  of. 

The  evidence  was  a  nuisance.  What  was 
the  good  of  it  all  ?  Over  and  over  and 
over  again.  At  the  inquest,  at  the  police 
court,  and  now  here.  Repeated,  laboriously 
taken  down,  and  repeated  again.  And  now  it 
was  worse  than  ever,  for  the  judge  insisted  on 
making  a  note  of  everything,  and  wrote  it 
down  slowly,  a  word  at  a  time.  The  witnesses 
were  like  barrel-organs,  producing  the  same  old 
tune  mechanically,  without  changing  a  note. 
There   was   the   policeman  who   was    in    Meakin 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  325 

Street  at  twelve-thirty  on  the  morning  of  the 
fourth  of  the  month,  when  he  heard  cries  of 
Murder,  and  proceeded  to  the  coffee-shop. 
There  was  the  other  policeman  who  also  'pro- 
ceeded '  there,  and  recognised  the  prisoner, 
whom  he  knew,  at  the  first  -  floor  window. 
And  there  was  the  sergeant  who  had  found 
him  in  the  cellar,  and  the  doctor  who  had 
made  an  examination,  and  the  knife,  and  the 
boots,  and  all  of  it.  It  was  Murder,  Murder, 
Murder  still.  Why?  Wasn't  it  plain  enough? 
He  felt  some  interest  in  what  was  coming — 
in  the  sentence,  and  the  black  cap,  and  so  on 
— never  having  seen  a  murder  trial  before. 
But  all  this  repetition  oppressed  him  vaguely 
amid  the  innumerable  things  he  had  to  think 
of,  one  thing  leading  to  another. 

Hannah  and  Dicky  were  there,  sitting  to- 
gether behind  the  glass  partition  that  rose  at 
the  side  of  the  dock.  Hannah's  face  was  down 
in  her  hands,  and  Dicky's  face  was  thin  and 
white,  and  he  sat  with  his  neck  stretched,  his 
lips  apart,  his  head  aside  to  catch  the  smallest 
word.      His     eyes,   too,    were   red    with    strained, 


326  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

unwinking  attention.  Josh  felt  vaguely  that 
they  might  keep  a  bolder  face,  as  he  did  him- 
self His  sprained  foot  was  still  far  from  well, 
but  he  stood  up,  putting  his  weight  on  the 
other.  He  might  have  been  allowed  to  sit  if 
he  had  asked,  but  that  would  look  like  weak- 
ness. 

There  was  another  judge  this  time,  an  older 
one,  with  spectacles.  He  had  come  solemnly 
in,  after  lunch,  with  a  bunch  of  flowers  in  his 
hand,  and  Josh  thought  he  made  an  odd 
figure  in  his  long  red  gown.  Why  did  he  sit 
at  the  end  of  the  bench,  instead  of  in  the 
middle,  under  the  long  sword  ?  Perhaps  the  old 
gentleman,  who  sat  there  for  a  little  while  and 
then  went  away,  was  the  Lord  Mayor.  That 
would  account  for  it.  There  was  another  room 
behind  the  bedroom  at  Weech's,  which  he  had 
never  thought  about.  Perhaps  the  money  was 
there,  after  all.  Could  they  have  missed  any 
hiding  place  in  the  shop  parlour  ?  No :  there 
was  the  round  table,  with  the  four  chairs 
about  it,  and  the  little  sideboard ;  besides  the 
texts  on  the  wall,  and  two  china  figures  on  the 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  327 

mantelpiece — that  was  all.  There  was  a  copper 
in  the  wash-house,  but  there  was  nothing  in  it. 
The  garret  was  a  very  good  place  to  keep  things 
in ;  but  there  was  a  strong  smell  of  stale 
pickles.  He  could  smell  it  now — he  had  smelt 
it  ever  since. 

The  judge  stopped  a  witness  to  speak  of  a 
draught  from  a  window.  Josh  Perrott  watched 
the  shutting  of  the  window — they  did  it  with 
a  cord.  He  had  not  noticed  a  draught  him- 
self. But  pigeons  were  flying  outside  the  panes 
and  resting  on  the  chimney-stacks.  Pud  Palmer 
tried  to  keep  pigeons  in  Jago  Row,  but  one 
morning  the  trap  was  found  empty.  A  poul- 
terer gave  fourpence  each  for  them.  They 
were  ticketed  at  eighteenpence  a  pair  in  the 
shop,  and  that  was  fivepence  profit  apiece  for 
the  poulterer.  Tenpence  a  pair  profit  on  eleven 
pairs  was  nearly  ten  shillings — ten  shillings  all 
but  tenpence.  They  wouldn't  have  given  any 
more  in  Club  Row.  A  man  had  a  four-legged 
linnet  in  Club  Row,  but  there  was  a  show  in 
Bethnal  Green  Road  with  a  two-headed  sheep. 
It    was    outside   there    that    Ginger    Stagg   was 


328  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

pinched  for  lob-crawling.  And  so  on,  and  so  on, 
till  his  head  buzzed  again. 

His  counsel  was  saying  something.  How 
long  had  he  been  talking  ?  What  was  the 
good  of  it  ?  He  had  told  him  that  he  had 
no  defence.  The  lawyer  was  enlarging  on  the 
dead  man's  iniquities,  talking  of  provocation,  and 
the  heat  of  passion,  and  the  like.  He  was 
aiming  desperately  at  a  recommendation  to 
mercy.      That  was  mere  foolery. 

But  presently  the  judge  began  to  sum  up. 
They  were  coming  to  something  at  last.  But 
it  was  merely  the  thrice -told  evidence  once 
more.  The  judge  blinked  at  his  notes,  and  went 
at  it  again ;  the  policeman  with  his  whistle, 
and  the  other  with  his  lantern,  and  the  doctor, 
and  the  sergeant,  and  the  rest.  It  was  shorter 
this  time,  though.  Josh  Perrott  turned  and 
looked  at  the  clock  behind  him,  with  the  faces 
over  it,  peering  from  the  gallery.  But  when 
he  turned  to  face  the  judge  again  he  had  for- 
gotten the  time,  and  crowded  trivialities  were 
racing  through  the  narrow  gates  of  his  brain 
once  more. 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  329 

There  was  a  cry  for  silence,  and  then  a 
fresh  voice  spoke.  'Gentlemen  of  the  jury, 
have  you  agreed  upon  your  verdict?' 

'  We  have.'  The  foreman  was  an  agitated, 
colourless  man,  and  he  spoke  in  a  low  tone. 

'  Do  you  find  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  guilty, 
or  not  guilty  ?' 

'  Guilty.' 

Yes,  that  was  right ;  this  was  the  real  business. 
His  head  was  clear  and   ready  now. 

'  And  is  that  the  verdict  of  you  all  ? ' 

'  Yes.' 

Was  that  Hannah  sobbing? 

A  pale  parson  in  his  black  gown  came  walking 
along  by  the  bench,  and  stood  like  a  tall  ghost  at 
the  judge's  side,  his  eyes  raised  and  his  hands 
clasped.  The  judge  took  a  black  thing  from  the 
seat  beside  him,  and  arranged  it  on  his  head. 
It  was  a  sort  of  soft  mortarboard,  Josh  noted 
curiously,  with  a  large  silk  tassel  hanging  over 
one  side,  giving  the  judge,  with  his  wig  and  his 
spectacles  and  his  red  gown,  a  horribly  jaunty 
look.  No  brain  could  be  clearer  than  Josh 
Perrott's  now. 


330  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

'  Prisoner  at  the  bar,  have  you  anything  to  say 
why  sentence  of  death  should  not  be  passed  on 
you  according  to  law?' 

'No  sir — I  done  it.  On'y 'e  was  a  worse  man 
than  me ! ' 

The  Clerk  of  Arraigns  sank  into  his  place,  and 
the  judge  spoke. 

'Joshua  Perrott,  you  have  been  convicted,  on 
evidence  that  can  leave  no  doubt  whatever  of 
your  guilt  in  the  mind  of  any  rational  person, 
of  the  horrible  crime  of  wilful  murder.  The  cir- 
cumstances of  your  awful  offence  there  is  no  need 
to  recapitulate,  but  they  were  of  the  most  brutal 
and  shocking  character.  You  deliberately,  and 
with  preparation,  broke  into  the  house  of  the 
man  whose  death  you  have  shortly  to  answer 
for  in  a  higher  court  than  this :  whether  you 
broke  in  with  a  design  of  robbery  as  well  as 
of  revenge  by  murder  I  know  not,  nor  is  it  my 
duty  to  consider  :  but  you  there,  with  every  cir- 
cumstance of  callous  ferocity,  sent  the  wretched 
man  to  that  last  account  which  you  must  shortly 
render  for  yourself  Of  the  ill-spent  life  of  that 
miserable   man,   your   victim,  it  is  not  for  me  to 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  331 

speak,  nor  for  you  to  think.  And  I  do  most 
earnestly  beseech  you  to  use  the  short  time  yet 
remaining  to  you  on  this  earth  in  true  repentance, 
and  in  making  your  peace  with  Almighty  God. 
It  is  my  duty  to  pronounce  sentence  of  that 
punishment  which  not  I,  but  the  law  of  this 
country,  imposes  for  the  crime  which  you  have 
committed.  The  sentence  of  the  Court  is :  that 
you  be  taken  to  the  place  whence  you  came,  and 
thence  to  a  place  of  execution  :  and  that  you  be 
there  Hanged  by  the  Neck  till  you  be  Dead : 
and  may  the  Lord  have  Mercy  on  your  Soul ! ' 

'  Amen  ! '     It  was  from  the  tall  black  figure. 

Well,  well,  that  was  over.  The  gaoler  touched 
his  arm.  Right.  But  first  he  took  a  quick  glance 
through  the  glass  partition.  Hannah  was  falling 
over,  or  something, — a  mere  rusty  swaying  bundle, 
— and  Dicky  was  holding  her  up  with  both  arms. 
Dicky's  face  was  damp  and  grey,  and  twitching 
lines  were  in  his  cheeks.  Josh  took  a  step  to- 
ward the  partition,  but  they  hurried  him  away. 


XXXV 

ALL  this  hard  thinking  would  be  over  in 
half  an  hour  or  so.  What  was  to  come 
now  didn't  matter ;  no  more  than  a  mere  punch 
in  the  eye.  The  worst  was  over  on  Saturday, 
and  he  had  got  through  that  all  right.  Hannah 
was  very  bad,  and  so  was  Dicky.  Em  cried  in 
a  bewildered  sort  of  way,  because  the  others  did. 
Little  Josh,  conceiving  that  his  father  was  some- 
how causing  all  the  tears,  kicked  and  swore  at 
him.  He  tried  to  get  Hannah  to  smile  at  this, 
but  it  was  no  go  ;  and  they  had  to  carry  her 
out  at  last.  Dicky  was  well  -  plucked  though, 
bad  as  he  was.  He  felt  him  shake  and  choke 
when  he  kissed  him,  but  he  walked  out  straight 
and  steady,  with  the  two  children.  Well,  it  was 
over.  .  .  . 

He  hoped  they  would  get  up  a  break  in  the 
Jago  for  Hannah  and  the   youngsters.     His  own 

332 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  333 

break  had  never  come  off — they  owed  him  one. 
The  last  break  he  was  at  was  at  Mother  Gapp's, 
before  the  Dove-Laners  fell  through  the  floor.  It 
must  have  cost  Mother  Gapp  a  deal  of  money  to 
put  in  the  new  floor ;  but  then  she  must  have 
made  a  lot  in  her  time,  what  with  one  thing 
and  another.  There  was  the  fencing,  and  the 
houses  she  had  bought  in  Honey  Lane,  and  the 
two  fourpenny  doss-houses  in  Hoxton  that  they 
said  were  hers,  and — well,  nobody  could  say 
what  else.  Some  said  she  came  of  the  gipsies 
that  used  to  live  at  the  Mount  years  ago.  The 
Mount  was  a  pretty  thick  place  now,  but  not  so 
thick  as  the  Jago  :  the  Jagos  were  thick  as  glue 
and  wide  as  Broad  Street.  Bob  the  Bender  fell 
in  Broad  Street,  toy-getting,  and  got  a  stretch 
and  a  half  .  .  . 

Yes,  yes,  of  course,  they  always  tolled  a  bell. 
But  it  was  rather  confusing,  with  things  to  think 
about. 

Ah,  they  had  come  at  last.  Come,  there  was 
nothing  more  to  think  about  now ;  nothing  but 
to  take  it  game.  Hold  tight  —  Jago  hold  tight. 
...     '  No  thank  you,  sir — nothing  to  say,  special. 


334  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

On'y  much  obliged  to  ye,  thank  ye  kindly,  for 
the  grub  an' — an'  bein'  kind  an'  wot  not.  Thanks 
all  of  ye,  come  to  that.  Specially  you,  sir.'  It 
was  the  tall  black  figure  again.  .  .  . 

What,  this  was  the  chap,  was  it  ?  Seedy-look- 
ing. Sort  of  undertaker's  man  to  look  at.  All 
right — straps.  Not  cords  to  tie,  then.  Waist ; 
wrists;  elbows;  more  straps  dangling  below — 
do  them  presently.  This  was  how  they  did  it, 
then.  .  .  .     This  way  ? 

'  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,  saith  the 
Lord :  he  that  believeth  in  Me,  though  he  were 
dead,  yet  shall  he  live:  and  whosoever  liveth 
and  believeth  in  Me  shall  never  die.' 

A  very  big  gate,  this,  all  iron,  painted  white. 
Round  to  the  right.  Not  very  far,  they  told  him. 
It  was  dark  in  the  passage,  but  the  door  led  into 
the  yard,  where  it  was  light  and  open,  and  sparrows 
were  twittering.     Another  door :  in  a  shed. 

This  was  the  place.  All  white,  everywhere — 
frame  too ;  not  black  after  all.  Up  the  steps.  .  .  . 
Hold  tight  :  not  much  longer.  Stand  there  ? 
Very  well. 

'  Man  that  is  born  of  a  woman  hath  but  a  short 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  335 

time  to  live,  and  is  full  of  misery.     He  cometh  up, 
and  is  cut  down,  like  a  flower :  he  fleeth  as  it  were 
a  shadow,  and  never  continueth  in  one  stay. 
'  In  the  midst  of  life ' 


XXXVI 

IT  was  but  a  little  crowd  that  stood  at  the 
Old  Bailey  corner  while  the  bell  tolled,  to 
watch  for  the  black  flag.  This  was  not  a  popular 
murder.  Josh  Perrott  was  not  a  man  who  had 
been  bred  to  better  things  ;  he  did  not  snivel  and 
rant  in  the  dock ;  and  he  had  not  butchered 
his  wife  nor  his  child,  nor  anybody  with  a 
claim  on  his  gratitude  or  affection;  so  that 
nobody  sympathised  with  him,  nor  got  up  a 
petition  for  pardon,  nor  wrote  tearful  letters  to 
the  newspapers.  And  the  crowd  that  watched 
for  the  black  flag  was  a  small  one,  and  half  of 
it  came  from  the  Jago. 

While  it  was  watching,  and  while  the  bell  was 
tolling,  a  knot  of  people  stood  at  the  Perrotts' 
front  -  doorway,  in  Old  Jago  Street.  Father 
Start   went    across   as   soon    as    the    sleepers   of 

336 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  337 

the  night  had  been  seen  away  from  the  shelter, 
and  spoke  to  Kiddo  Cook,  who  stood  at  the 
stair-foot  to  drive  off  intruders. 

'  They  say  she's  been  settin'  up  all  night, 
Father,'  Kiddo  reported,  in  a  hushed  voice. 
'  An'  Poll's  jest  looked  in  at  the  winder  from 
Walsh's,  and  says  she  can  see  'em  all  kneelin' 
round  a  chair  with  that  little  clock  o'  theirs 
on  it.     It's — it's  more'n  'alf  an  hour  yut.' 

'  I  shall  come  here  myself  presently,  and 
relieve  you.  Can  you  wait  ?  You  mustn't 
neglect  trade,  you  know.' 

'  I'll  wait  all  day,  Father,  if  ye  like.  Nobody 
sha'n't  disturb  'cm.' 

When  Father  Sturt  returned  from  his  errand, 
'  Have  you  heard  anything  ? '    he  asked. 

'No,  Father,'  answered  Kiddo  Cook.  'They 
ain't  moved.' 

There  were  two  faint  notes  from  a  distant 
steeple,  and  then  the  bell  of  St  Leonards  beat 
out  the  inexorable  hour. 


XXXVTI 

KIDDO  COOK  prospered.  The  stall  was 
a  present  fact,  and  the  awning  was 
not  far  off;  indeed,  he  was  vigilantly  in  search 
of  a  second  -  hand  one,  not  too  much  worn. 
But  with  all  his  affluence  he  was  not  often  drunk. 
Nothing  could  be  better  than  his  pitch — right 
out  in  the  High  Street,  in  the  busiest  part, 
and  hard  by  the  London  and  County  branch 
bank.  They  called  it  Kiddo's  Bank  in  the 
Jago,  and  made  jokes  about  alleged  deposits 
of  his.  If  you  bought  a  penn'orth  of  greens 
from  Kiddo,  said  facetious  Jagos,  he  didn't 
condescend  to  take  the  money  himself;  he 
gave  you  a  slip  of  paper,  and  you  paid 
at  the  bank.  And  Kiddo  had  indulged  in  a 
stroke  of  magnificence  that  no  other  Jago 
would    have    thought    of      He     had    taken    two 

338 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  339 

rooms,  in  the  new  County  Council  dwellings. 
The  secret  was  that  Father  Sturt  had  agreed 
to  marry  Kiddo  Cook  and  Pigeony  Poll. 
There  would  be  plenty  for  both  to  do,  what 
with  the  stall  and  the  regular  round  with  the 
barrow. 

The  wedding-day  came  when  Hannah  Perrott 
had  been  one  week  a  widow.  For  a  few  days 
Father  Sturt  had  left  her  alone,  and  had 
guarded  her  privacy.  Then,  seeing  that  she  gave 
no  sign,  he  went  with  what  quiet  comfort  he 
might,  and  bespoke  her  attention  to  her 
concerns.  He  invented  some  charing  work  in 
his  rooms  for  her.  She  did  it  very  badly,  and 
if  he  left  her  long  alone,  she  would  be  found  on 
the  floor,  with  her  face  in  a  chair  -  seat,  crying 
weakly.  But  the  work  was  something  for  her  to 
do  and  to  think  about,  and  by  dint  of  bustling  it 
and  magnifying  its  importance,  Father  Sturt 
brought  her  to  some  degree  of  mindfulness 
and  calm. 

Dicky  walked  that  morning  in  a  sort  of 
numb,  embittered  fury.  What  should  he 
do    now?      His   devilmost.      Spare   nobody  and 


340  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

stop  at  nothing.  Old  Beveridge  was  right 
that  morning  years  ago.  The  Jago  had  got 
him,  and  it  held  him  fast.  Now  he  went 
doubly  sealed  of  the  outcasts:  a  Jago  with 
a  hanged  father.  Father  Sturt  talked  of  work, 
but  who  would  give  him  work  ?  And  why  do 
it,  in  any  case  ?  What  came  of  it  before  ? 
No,  he  was  a  Jago  and  the  world's  enemy ; 
Father  Sturt  was  the  only  good  man 
jn  it;  as  for  the  rest,  he  would  spoil 
them  when  he  could.  There  was  something 
for  to-morrow  night,  if  only  he  could  get 
calmed  down  enough  by  then.  A  builder's  yard 
in  Kingsland  with  an  office  in  a  loft,  and  money 
in  a  common  desk.  Tommy  Rann  had  found 
it,  and  they  must  do  it  together;  if  only  he 
could  get  this  odd  numbness  off  him,  and  have 
his  head  clear.  So  much  crying,  perhaps,  and 
so  much  trying  not  to,  till  his  head  was  like 
to  burst.  Deep-eyed  and  pale,  he  dragged 
round  into  Edge  Lane,  and  so  into  New 
Jago  Street. 

Jerry   Gullen's   canary   was    harnessed    to    the 
barrow,  and  Jerry  himself  was  piling  the  barrow 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  341 

with  rags  and  bottles.  Dicky  stood  and  looked ; 
he  thought  he  would  rub  Canary's  head,  but  then 
he  changed  his  mind,  and  did  not  move.  Jerry 
Gullen  glanced  at  him  furtively  once  or  twice, 
and  then  said :  '  Good  ole  moke  for  wear, 
ain't  'e?' 

'  Yus,'  Dicky  answered  moodily,  his  talk  half 
random.     '  'E'll  peg  out  soon  now.' 

"Im?  Not  'im.  Wy,  I  bet  'e'll  live  longer'n 
you  will.     'E  ain't  goin'  to  die.' 

'  I  think  'e'd  like  to,'  said  Dicky,  and  slouched 
on. 

Yes,  Canary  would  be  better  off,  dead.  So 
would  others.  It  would  be  a  comfortable  thing 
for  himself  if  he  could  die  quietly  then  and  there. 
But  it  would  never  do  for  mother  and  the  child- 
ren to  be  left  helpless.  How  good  for  them  all  to 
go  off  easily  together,  and  wake  in  some  pleasant 
place,  say  a  place  like  Father  Sturt's  sitting-room, 
and  perhaps  find — but  there,  what  foolishness  ! 

What  was  this  unendurable  stupor  that  clung 
about  him  like  a  net?  He  knew  everything 
clearly  enough,  but  it  was  all  in  an  atmosphere 
of    dull    heedlessness.      There     would    be    some 


342  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

relief  in  doing  something  violent — in  smashing 
something  to  little  pieces  with  a  hammer. 

He  came  to  the  ruined  houses.  There  was 
a  tumult  of  yells,  and  a  crowd  of  thirty  or  forty 
lads  went  streaming  across  the  open  waste, 
waving  sticks. 

'  Come  on  !  come  on,  Jago  !     'Ere  they  are ! ' 

A  fight  1  Ah,  what  more  welcome  !  And  Dove 
Lane,  too — Dove  Lane,  that  had  taken  to  bawling 
the  taunt,  'Jago  cut-throats,'  since  .  .  . 

He  was  in  the  thick  of  the  raid.  '  Come  on, 
Jago  !  Jago  !  'Ere  they  are  ! '  Past  the  Board 
School  and  through  Honey  Lane  they  went,  and 
into  Dove  Lane  territory.  A  small  crowd  of 
Dove-Laners  broke  and  fled.  Straight  ahead 
the  Jagos  went,  till  they  were  suddenly  taken  in 
flank  at  a  turning  by  a  full  Dove  Lane  mob.  The 
Jagos  were  broken  by  the  rush,  but  they  fought 
stoutly,  and  the  street  was  filled  with  a  surge  of 
combat. 

*  Jago  !  Jago  hold  tight ! ' 

Thin,  wasted  and  shaken,  Dicky  fought  like 
a  tiger.  He  had  no  stick  till  he  floored  a  Dove- 
Laner  and  took  his  from  him,  but  then  he  blud- 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  343 

geoned  apace,  callous  to  every  blow,  till  he  fought 
through  the  thick,  and  burst  out  at  the  edge  of 
the  fray.  He  pulled  his  cap  tight,  and  swung 
back,  almost  knocking  over,  but  disregarding,  a 
leather-aproned,  furtive  hunchback,  who  turned 
and  came  at  his  heels. 

'Jago!  Jago  hold  tight!'  yelled  Dicky  Perrott. 
*  Come  on.  Father  Sturt's  boys ! ' 

He  was  down.  Just  a  punch  under  the  arm 
from  behind.  As  he  rolled,  face  under,  he  caught 
a  single  glimpse  of  the  hunchback,  running.  But 
what  was  this — all  this  ? 

A  shout  went  up.  '  Stabbed  !  Chived  !  They 
chived  Dicky  Perrott ! ' 

The  fight  melted.  Somebody  turned  Dicky  on 
his  back,  and  he  moaned,  and  lay  gasping.  He 
lifted  his  dabbled  hands,  and  looked  at  them, 
wondering.  They  tried  to  lift  him,  but  the 
blood  poured  so  fast  that  they  put  him  down. 
Somebody  had  gone  for  a  surgeon. 

'  Take  me  'ome,'  said  Dicky,  faintly,  with  an 
odd  gurgle  in  his  voice.     '  Not  'awspital.' 

The  surgeon  came  running,  with  policemen  at 
his  heels.     Pie  ripped  away  the  clothes  from  about 


344  A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO 

the  wound,  and  shook  his  head.  It  was  the  lung. 
Water  was  brought,  and  cloths,  and  an  old  door. 
They  put  Dicky  on  the  door,  and  carried  him 
toward  the  surgery ;  and  two  lads  who  stayed  by 
him  were  sent  to  bring  his  friends. 

The  bride  and  bridegroom,  meeting  the  news  on 
the  way  home,  set  off  at  a  run,  and  Father  Sturt 
followed. 

'  Good  Gawd,  Dicky,'  cried  Poll,  tearing  her 
way  to  the  shutter  as  it  stopped  at  the  surgery 
door,  '  wot's  this  ?  ' 

Dicky's  eye  fell  on  the  flowered  bonnet  that 
graced  the  wedding,  and  his  lip  lifted  with  the 
shade  of  a  smile.     '  Luck,  Pidge  ! ' 

He  was  laid  out  in  the  surgery.  A  crowd  stood 
about  the  door,  while  Father  Sturt  went  in. 
The  vicar  lifted  his  eyebrows  questioningly,  and 
the  surgeon  shook  his  head.  It  was  a  matter 
of  minutes. 

Father  Sturt  bent  over  and  took  Dicky's  hand. 
'  My  poor  Dicky,'  he  said,  '  who  did  this  ? ' 

'  Dunno,  Fa'er.' 

The  lie — the  staunch  Jago  lie.  Thou  shalt 
not  nark. 


A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO  345 

'  Fetch  mother  an'  the  kids.     Fa'er  ! ' 
'  Yes,  my  boy  ? ' 

'  Tell  Mist'  Beverldge  there's  'nother  way  out — 
better.' 


THE   END 


Colston  dr"  Coy.,  Limited,  Printers,  Edinburgh. 


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